


Cohesion

by chibimono



Series: Shifting Dynamics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Established Relationship, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Language, M/M, Memories, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Polyamory, Self-Esteem Issues, Selfishness, Threesome - M/M/M, Trust Issues, V-type polyamory, Voyeurism, discussions of characters previously being dead, discussions of major injuries sustained by off-screen violence, embarrassing pubescent moment, please read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibimono/pseuds/chibimono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky seemingly returns from the dead, memories and feelings from the abrupt end of their world has Steve desperate to never let go again. This puts a strain on the relationship Steve currently has with Tony. Can Steve get them to understand the depth of his heart and the lengths he'll go for them before Bucky's jealousy and Tony's abandonment issues tear them all apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cohesion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Written for the 2012 [polybigbang](http://polybigbang.livejournal.com/) on LiveJournal. This also fills the _polyamory_ square for my [cap_ironman](http://cap_ironman.livejournal.com/) bingo card and the _abandonment issues_ square for my [hc_bingo](http://hc_bingo.livejournal.com/) card.  
>  I'd like to thank Tiff, Jenn, unavoidedcrisis, Brandi, and Ashkah for the cheerleading and handholding. I don't think I could have made it through without any of you. And much extra thanks to Tiff for the beta and Brandi for catching typos!  
> And also, so much love and thanks for Vonuberwald for the wonderful, beautiful artwork! I'm so grateful you chose to work with me! Your art is gorgeous and it's a true pleasure to have it along side my story. :3  
> You can see wonderful Vonuberwald's art in the fic.  
>  
> 
> Mild dubious consent warning for a drunken character initiating sex with another non-drunk character.  
> Warning for embarrassing pubescent moment, as it deals with an embarrassing moment of an inappropriate erection in a semi-public area, in case it may be trigger-y for some people.  
> Warning for voyeurism deals with old-school coin-operated peepshows.
> 
>  
> 
> ******* This fic is not meant to be sunshine and rainbows. Polyamory is not always easy and I wanted to give a realistic portrayal of the anger, the jealousy, the selfishness, the guilt, and the hurt. People aren't always shown in the best light, sometimes someone gets the wrong end of the deal, and feelings get brutally hurt. The thing is to find balance and compromise, which will come eventually for our heroes of this story. Just not right away. Please, please keep this in mind while reading. *******

_There was a clack at the window, something like a rock hitting against the brittle pane. A minute passed before another hit rattled the glass in its frame. Jimmy slid off the top bunk with a scramble of awkward limbs, landing with a quiet thump. With a cringe he pushed open the creaking window to peer down into the alley below._

_"Ah, geez, Barnes!" he whines just under his breath, hoping the fool below would hear him. "You tryin' to get a guy in trouble or somethin'?"_

_At the sound of his friend's name, Steve threw off his own blankets and tumbled from his bed. He was at the window in moments, something fluttering eagerly in his chest at the sight of the dark mop of hair and mischievous smile flashing in the streetlight. After reading the balcony scene from_ Romeo and Juliet _in class just a few days earlier, the thought came to mind easily as he looked down. Steve was thankful for the cover of night, hiding the heat in his cheeks. "Hiya, Bucky," he smiled, leaning out the window to wave._

_"Hey, Steve," he stage whispered back, not bothering to acknowledge Jimmy even as he was still standing there._

_"What're you doin' out so late, anyway?" Jimmy grumbled. "Your pop kick you out again?"_

_With grace like an alley cat, Bucky scaled the fire escape with barely a groan of the metal under his weight. "As a matter-of-fact, he did," Bucky said easily as he squat down on the landing outside the window. "Not that I really care. How you doin, Stevie?"_

_Steve leaned on the window ledge, forgetting Jimmy was even in the room. "Alright, I guess."_

_"Just alright?" Bucky asked, and Steve could see him grin in the faint moonlight falling between the buildings, the only light to see him by at five floors up._

_"The best now, really," Steve laughed softly. "I got my best pal here. You got a place to stay tonight?"_

_"Not yet, unless you're offering?"_

_Jimmy groaned. "We're gonna be in so much trouble again..."_

_Bucky ignored Jimmy completely, eyes on Steve. Steve, who could never say no. At least, not to Bucky._

_"I'll take all the blame, Jimmy. Just say you were sleeping and didn't know."_

_"Aww, Steve," Jimmy whined again. "Don't let this guy get you in trouble again! It's every time--"_

_"He doesn't have a place to go, Jimmy," Steve said, looking at his bunk mate with pleading eyes. "You know I'd do the same for you."_

_"Fine, I don't know nothin'." And with that, Jimmy climbed back up onto the top bunk._

_Bucky didn't waste any time slipping through the window and shucking off his clothes down to his undershirt and shorts. Thankful the darkness hid his grin, Steve scrambled into his bed and held the blankets open for Bucky to follow him in._

_"They need to get you a bigger bed, punk," Bucky said, curling up along Steve's back as Steve faced the wall._

_"This one is plenty big without you crowding it," he murmured back. "Now go to sleep, jerk. The Sisters come by early, and you gotta be outta here."_

_Steve's just at the edge of sleep, just ready to slip out of this world into one of dreams, when a very quiet whisper tickled the hair behind his ear. "Thanks, Steve.... maybe one day, you'll be able to stay with me..." He couldn't work the words of a reply past his tired tongue, but he managed a smile._

* * *

If his posture was anything to go by, there was an obvious struggle, since he wasn't strapped into the harness and the IVs were attached after the fact, wherever they could be applied to the frozen skin without doing anymore damage. He was hunched, curling in on himself like he was trying to ward off the cold while attempting to force his way out. The bitter twist of his lips and the anguished tightening around his eyes showed he was desperate to get free and probably felt every bit of the freezing process.

"This isn't Red Room," Natasha breathed. "They believed in knocking him out before putting him in. He fought less, so less damage done."

"Had some of the best looking into it," Agent Sitwell said, flipping through a file. "Seems CIA left out a few pages. The inside terrorist attack in '02 was a cover-up. Three agents dead, 17 wounded. Don't think they were prepared for him to be ready to go right out the box."

"Let's not make it a habit of underestimating frozen soldiers," Fury said. "Widow. You've seen this before. What can we expect?"

She ran her fingers over the casing. "Disorientation. Aggression. Incoherence. They probably tried wiping his mind before they turned him over, so there is no guarantee he'll recognize me at all. Sedation usually doesn't work; he has some sort of high tolerance to medications. High tolerance to pain, as well. His shoulder is a disaster; he lived with constant pain and showed no signs of it unless he caused further damage to it."

"Initial examinations sent over from the CIA show that his shoulder was shattered at one point, and replaced by a poorly designed metal join. No known evidence as to how they managed to save his arm as well, but it's still intact for the most part," Sitwell fluttered through the pages of the file, scanning quickly for anything further. "It seems the CIA's docs were in the middle of attempting a surgery to replace the joint when he... woke."

"Alright then," Fury nodded, and several high clearance agents and medical personnel stepped forward. "I want him in the containment area, with high priority security. Until we know what he's capable of, we treat him like the enemy. Take him down, but only out if he takes others out first."

Natasha was in the observation room when he stirred, watching over the team of examiners that were monitoring his vitals and testing muscle control. It was a subtle twitch in his bicep, easily mistakable for any of the muscle ticks from the thaw. Natasha saw it for what it was just as he moved for the doctor's throat. She came in fast, taser and knives at the ready, but he was using a human shield, holding the doctor at just the right angles to keep her back. He made demands, asking questions in a garble of Russian, German, and French, his sentence structure Germanic, but switching back and forth with vocabulary between languages like he couldn't focus on just one. The doctor was trying to stay calm, trying to cooperate as much as possible, and only replied in English, not knowing which language would carry through. The Winter Soldier just growled, but apparently he understood enough English for it to filter in with the other languages.

" _I will take you down if I have to. I don't want to, but I will do it_ ," Natasha said in Russian. She wanted him to recognize her, hoping he would back down at a familiar sight, but his constricted pupils showed no recognition at all, just a blank void, just the Soldier on a Mission. She moved in closer, but he made no move to back off, to give in, and she was just waiting for him to go on the offensive.

One of the nursing attendants inched his way over to a panel and smacked the panic button. The whole facility seemed to dim for just a second before a warning call blared to life. The door to the operation room slammed shut, as if to hold them inside, but the Soldier had other ideas. He flung the doctor in Natasha's direction and picked up a metal supply cart, ramming it through the observation window before diving in after it. 

Natasha cursed in Russian as she shoved the doctor out of her way and followed him through the broken glass. "Director," she called in, "we have a situation."

* * *

Waiting outside the command deck of the Helicarrier, Steve casually leaned against the wall and watched as agents came and went. He smiled and nodded at a few, having had the chance to work with them through different crises over the past few years. He looked up to the digital readout of the current time across all time zones and smirked to himself at the telltale laughter in the hall. A few moments later, Bruce and Tony, sans armor, came into view, making their way to the briefing from the transport bay.

As Tony caught sight of Steve, he threw his arms out and slumped in mock disappointment. "Baby, you couldn't wait for me? I even got here early. Still twenty minutes until the briefing. I could have painted the suit on for you..." He easily walked right into Steve's personal space, until his chest was against the arms Steve had folded over his own star spangled chest.

Steve smiled fondly at Tony, even as he rolled his eyes. "I'll make sure you're around when it's time to peel it off. How's that?"

"As long as I can get some naked Cap, I can't really complain," Tony grinned cheekily, even as Bruce groaned dramatically behind him.

"I really like you guys, but I'd wish you'd leave it in the bedroom," Bruce said with an amused shake of his head.

Tony whipped around quickly to give the doctor an incredulous look. "Lies. You know you live vicariously through our open displays of affection."

Bruce just laughed good-naturedly as he made his way past them onto the command deck.

Steve unfolded his arms to lean in and give Tony a peck on his forehead. "So, how was the meeting?"

Not one to accept something so chaste, Tony leaned up to kiss Steve properly on the lips. He's told Fury on more than one occasion that he could take the fraternization policy and stick it up his ass. "It was boring, as usual. Just like this briefing’s going to be. But at least here I have you to sit across from me, so I can undress you with my eyes." His salacious wink had Steve rolling his eyes again even as he blushed.

"Then I'll sit beside you," Steve countered.

"Then we'll play footsie. You know me, I'm not hard to please."

Steve covered his mouth to muffle his bark of scoffing laughter as he pushed past Tony. "Sure, handsome. Keep telling yourself that."

They made their way to the conference table, taking their seats as agents moved around them. Steve claimed his usual spot on the opposite end of the table from where Fury normally stared them down, and Tony took the chair beside him, throwing his feet up on the conference table. Bruce rarely sat at the table and moved up to hover between the two of them, just a few steps back from the table. Clint came along soon after, laying his folded bow on the table and pulling up the seat on the other side of Steve.

"Hey, Clint," Steve smiled in greeting. "Natasha back yet?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah, she got in sometime last night. Didn't have a lot of time to talk. She said she'd be here if nothing went wrong."

"Well, well, Mr. Stark," Fury said almost over top of Clint, choosing just that moment to sweep in and take up his position at his end of the table. "I am so glad to see you here. Apparently, some of the Captain's better habits are rubbing off on you. And don't you dare make the comment I know is forming in your head. I have no compunction in ejecting you from this carrier without your suit. Is that understood?"

Tony slid his legs off the table and sat up properly, giving Fury a tight, irritated smile. "I wasn't going to say anything to you, Director. However, I would like to say to Steve: Cap. Keep doing what it is you do to me. Don't ever stop, babe."

Steve palmed his face in exasperation, hoping it hid some of the heat he felt reddening his face. 

Behind him, Bruce chuckled a quiet, "hopeless," under his breath, while Clint groaned from the other side. "Control your man, Cap. Christ."

"Personal affairs aside, gentlemen. Let's get down to business, shall we?" Fury turned to his control panels to bring up the holographic display at the center of the table. As an image of a classified folder appeared before them, Fury turned back and gestured with his hands for the displayed folder to open. A series of articles and images spilled out of the folder, but before any of them could materialize for viewing, the lights dimmed and the classified documents wiped themselves away.

"Warning. The medical wing on deck four has been compromised," the recorded announcement played. "All classified information and pertinent locations are now under lockdown. Please proceed with caution."

"I guess Natasha won't be joining us then?" Steve called over the speakers. 

"It's that Murphy's Law. Story of our lives," Bruce said, sounding calm as the lights came back up, now with additional red warning flashes.

Fury touched a finger to his ear, taking a moment to listen. "She may be with us sooner than you think. Avengers, get to the medical wing and assist the Black Widow."

"I'll suit up and meet you there," Tony winked, leaving to head for the cargo hold.

Steve nodded, slinging his shield from off his back to have it ready. "Alright. Everyone, patch into a comm unit." He touched his finger to the earpiece in his helmet, tapping into the channel normally designated for the Avengers. "Widow, do you read me?"

Natasha's voice was strained as she answered. "Loud and clear, Cap."

"Hawkeye and I are en-route, Iron Man's in the process of suiting up, and we have Hulk on backup. Give us a rundown on the situation."

"The target is not armed, but still exceptionally dangerous. He is disoriented and looking for an escape. Capture and subdue is our goal."

"Gravy work," Clint smirked, flicking his wrist for his bow to unfold with a snap to full size.

In the time it took to get from the command deck to Natasha, three more locations on deck four, and one on deck three went into lockdown in rapid succession.

"He's on the move, guys. I really need the help."

"We're trying, Tasha," Clint ground out, keeping pace with Steve as they maneuvered the corridors of the carrier. 

"Iron Man is incoming," Tony chimed in. "Don't start without me."

Coming down to deck three, in a section just ahead of the target's projected path, Steve was met with a metal barrier sliding shut in the middle of a passageway--a new section forced into lockdown.

"Hawkeye and I have headed him off! Ready to intercept," Steve said into the comms, his eyes watching through the view portal of the barrier.

And in a moment like something out of those terrible horror movies Clint enjoyed, a man came running into view. His eyes were wide with deadly focus, his pupils constricted to fine points. His hands were bloody, smears of blood across the hospital gown he was wearing. His hair was longer than Steve had ever seen it, his body filled out a little further than he remembered it. It was like a monster had taken hold of a face Steve once knew so well and was trying to wear it.

"Oh my god, Bucky," Steve breathed the words.

He was cold all over, like suddenly he was on the train again, with the wall ripped open for them all to just fall from it. Steve reached his hand out, but the metal barrier kept him away, kept him from grabbing hold.

"Bucky!"

He used the shield to strike at the barrier, the edge of it putting a deep dent into it. Wild hazel eyes found Steve through the view portal, red fingers leaving prints at just the edge. 

"BUCKY!"

Steve's throat was raw already from yelling. He smashed the edge of the shield against the metal again, the sound loud in the hall. In the distance, he heard more voices, but he couldn't tell if it's Dum Dum or Clint. If he's then or now.

"STEVE!"

And those hollow eyes were gone, replaced by terror and recognition and Steve roared with another strike on the barrier.

"STEVE! Get me out of here!"

"Steve! What the hell is wrong with you?" Tony was yelling, and Steve didn't know how, why wasn't Howard there? Metal hands pulled the shield from his grip.

And then familiar red in the view portal. Not a red dress, but _red hair_. Bucky shouted and Steve put his damn shoulder into it, he was going to get to him. He wasn't going to lose him again. God, not again. _Never_ again.

Metal hands, like vice grips, yanked Steve around and it was Tony he saw. 

"Steve! Come back to me, babe! Talk to me, dammit!"

Steve jerked, fought against the hold on him, looking to the barrier and what was in the glass beyond. Natasha gently laying a man out on the floor. A man with Bucky's face.

He crumpled to his knees, his chest tight like the old familiar asthma attacks, and promptly threw up.

* * *

_They had slipped away to Coney Island for the afternoon, all the spare change they were willing to part with jangling in their pockets. The arcade was busy on that summer afternoon, the Seeburg player orchestrion blaring with it's drums and piano melody over the loud hum of the crowd. They could huddle in around the other folks as they spent their pennies on the arcade machines and when Bucky could, he shuffled forward and wedged Steve between people so he could see._

 _They edge their way into the back, where the girlie shows were hidden, and Bucky tipped a penny into the Cali-O-Scope. The stereographic photos lost their effect as they shared the viewer, heads pressed together to peek in with one eye each at the black and white images. Bucky moved the crank slowly, the pictures of a pretty lady in silks and lace slowly coming uncovered with each flip, with Bucky pausing for plenty of time to take in all the details. Steve liked to follow the lines of her legs, the curve of her shoulders, liked seeing the happy, sometimes naughty grin on the dame's face, like she had enjoyed herself with her risque posing. If the nuns could see Steve now, they'd be so shocked._ That Barnes boy is such a bad influence, Steven! __

 _Beside him, Bucky laughed low, his voice already cracked and deepened months ago, and it set a feeling to coil in Steve's belly. Steve knew that laugh, though, knew what was coming, because they'd seen this set a good many times before. And there,_ ah _, was what Bucky had been waiting for--a slip of the lady's gown falling from her shoulder, the flesh of her naked breast bared for them to see. It left Steve gasping every time, a flush spreading up the back of his neck and over his cheeks and ears like a flash fire, his first instinct to jump back and avert his eyes. But Bucky always leaned in closer, pressing up against the cabinet like he could see more that way._

 _This time was no different, but as Steve drew back and Bucky in, Bucky's hand pressed over Steve's against the front panel, as if to hold him there. At the touch, a thrill ran up Steve's spine like lightening and that coil in his gut grew tighter and heavier, weighing down, down..._ oh _._

_"Don't look away, Stevie. Almost done," Bucky whispered, still peering with one eye into the viewer._

_But Steve was already done. Or done for, rather. He squirmed, not sure if he wanted to tug his hand away or just leave it, Bucky's sweaty palm pressing hot and insistent. Either way, he wasn't going to be able to hide his sudden predicament when stepped back from the Cali-O-Scope. Oh, of all the things to happen to him..._

_"Steve?" Bucky looked up, because of course he'd notice that Steve wasn't looking with him. "Are you...?" And a quick glance over has Steve completely red in mortification, his breath hitching dangerously. But Bucky just grinned, all sly and wolfish, and patted the hand he had trapped against the front of the viewer. "Finally blooming there, huh, punk?"_

_Steve snatched his hand away and punched Bucky in the shoulder with it, scowling. At least the horrible embarrassment was enough to calm the heat in his belly, but he was still as red as a tomato. "That's not funny, you jerk."_

_"I wasn't laughing," Bucky kept grinning and hooked a finger in Steve's suspender strap to haul him closer. "Just saying, it's about damn time. Thought maybe you were broken or something. Go on and finish up the show, pal. Watch it with both eyes."_

_Steve did as he was told, peeking back in at the pretty dame and her bare breast. The bright electric feel along his spine or the burn in his gut didn't come again as he flipped through the last of the pictures. He didn't feel it in the days that followed when Bucky shared the pin-up pictures he smuggled from his step-father._

_But when their hands brushed, or Bucky leaned just a little too close, if Bucky whispered in his ear..._ oh _._

* * *

"We have Coulson down in the archives, pulling old SSR films and files. We're attempting to see if facial recognition matches up with black & white images and if old blood work reports shed a little light," Fury said, looking over the Avengers assembled around the table.

"It's him, sir," Steve said, swallowing hard and looking paler than Tony had ever seen. He was a little worried that Steve would throw up again at any moment. "I'd know Sergeant Barnes anywhere."

Fury gave Steve a sympathetic frown. "I don't doubt you, Captain. But because of legal, medical, and ethical reasons, we need to be sure. We went through the same process when we found you."

"But do you have to hold him like a prisoner? The straps? The sedatives--"

"You saw what he could do, Cap," Clint stopped him, folding his arms over his chest. "He was busting through two-inch thick bulletproof glass with his bare hands. What's going to stop him from getting spooked and doing it again?"

"I'm here!" Steve slammed his hands on the table. Tony didn't think anyone else noticed Steve's barely there weak-knee wobble like he did, the move covered by Steve was putting his weight on his braced hands. "He recognized me. He wouldn't--"

Natasha shook her head. "Right now, we really don't know what he would do. This runs much deeper than you think, Steve."

With a gesture from Fury, the files he tried to show at the first briefing were now in the air. "Originally, this meeting was to discuss the Winter Soldier. A former spy and assassin for Russia during the Cold War. After the fall of the Soviet government, there was quite a bit of information passing between the KGB and the CIA. Agents and officers deflecting or going rogue lit up our radar like a Christmas tree. In a show of loyalty, one such rogue defector promised us the Winter Soldier himself. 

Unfortunately, the CIA had to get involved; it's taken quite a few years, miles of red tape, and some of the highest security clearance we could get our hands on to finally have the Winter Soldier in our grasps. The fact that the Winter Soldier is also the only family you had listed from years gone by only complicates the situation further."

The utterly lost look on Steve's face had Tony inching closer, resting his armored hand on Steve's shoulder to offer support. "How...?" Steve asked, his voice heavy and breaking with pain. "He fell... I _saw_ him. He was at the bottom of the Alps... How? Why? Why the Russians?"

"We don't know, Cap," Fury said. "We're hoping he could tell us a few things once we get him settled."

Tony was mostly silent so far, hoping the briefing would settle Steve down at least a little. In the end, however, the information given left more questions than answers. Tony was pretty sure Steve didn’t know what to ask for the his heart in his throat. He held up a gauntlet covered hand and drew the table's attention. "So, you keep throwing around the name Winter Soldier. What makes this guy so special? I mean, should I have heard of him before?"

Natasha stood, fingers flicking through the files on the holographic display, shuffling into view a list of assassinations and poor quality surveillance footage. "Much like how the Nazis had HYDRA, the Soviet government had a division known as the Red Room. Their whole purpose was to create the best soldiers they could, the best weapons. And the Winter Soldier, well. He was the best. This list has 94 names on it, all of which were assassinations that fit the Winter Soldier's MO. They can't all be confirmed as his, but many of them have grainy footage that places a man with his description in the area. He should be considered exceptionally dangerous."

Steve shook his head, throat clicking as he swallowed. "And you think... this Winter Soldier. And Bucky. They're the same?"

Fury walked around the table to stand near Steve. "All evidence seems to point that way. I have your word that man is Sergeant James Barnes. I also have word from a very reliable source that he is, in fact, the Winter Soldier."

"So, you mean to say..." Bruce said, rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over his bottom lip. "That this man, who looks to be about the same age as Steve, is from the same time period as Steve? Fought alongside him, even? How is that possible?"

"Cryogenics," Natasha said evenly, expecting the disbelief from the scientists at the table.

"Yeah, no. See, science has yet to find a way to freeze a human in a way to allow survival. Our resident Cap-cube the exception," Tony pointed out. "I've seen the research. Even took a glance over some of the papers by Reed Richards, who, by the way, is a whack job. Even with today's standards in technology, cryogenically freezing a human being for the purpose of defrosting them at a later date is just not possible. So saying that he's been frozen as far back as the late 1940's is im-fucking-probable."

"And yet, here he is," Fury said, spreading his hands in a gesture of finality. "Dr. Banner, perhaps you're as curious as Mr. Stark on how our man survived the years? I'd like you to assist Agent Coulson on digging up the SSR bloodwork and running a few tests. Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton, I'd like you both to stay within reach of the infirmary. Captain Rog--"

"I want to see him," Steve said bluntly.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, soldier," Fury said slowly, almost gently. "I don't want to have to remind you of the situation we just went through as an example of how compromised you are. I understand how close this is, how important he is for you, but as of right now, Captain? I can't let you anywhere near him."

"Sir--" Steve was ready to beg, Tony could see it in the tensing of his shoulders, the tilt of his head. Those puppy-eyes were working their way to full power, but Fury shut him down just as fast.

"I’d like to think you haven't taken up enough of Stark's habits to want to argue with me, Cap. This is my final word on the matter." Fury then leveled his glare on Tony. 

"Take him home, Stark. You have twenty minutes to get off my Helicarrier before I put you both on a 72 hour lock-out. If I see either of you before that time is up, you'll be spending the remainder of it in the brig. Have I made myself clear?"

"As crystal," Tony muttered as he stepped further into Steve's personal space, moving his arm around Steve's waist. "Come on, babe. Let's go punch things."

Almost reluctantly, Steve turned to look at Tony, something dark and sad in his blue eyes. It made Tony ache, cold and hollow in his chest, like his arc reactor was suddenly filled with ice. "I'm not leaving," Steve said quietly, and it stung like a slap to Tony's face.

Tony clenched his jaw, looking around at the others before turning on Steve. "What do you think you'll be doing?"

"I'll be here if he needs me," Steve answered, quick and smooth, as his eyes flicked away to look down at the glossy table surface.

"Because you'll really be able to get to him from a cell," Tony snapped back. "Jesus, Steve. I never thought I'd have to say this, to you especially, but right now Fury is right."

"He needs me, Tony," Steve hissed, leaning in with a glare. "This isn't the world he once knew. He needs someone there for him--"

"Like I was for you," Tony cut in. "Remember that? Remember this?" He waved a hand between them, a gesture to indicate their relationship. "Remember how I'm kinda the guy that looks out for you? Because I like having you in my life? Steve, you’re compromised."

His words seemed to sink through then, because Steve blinked and sucked in a deep breath. 

"It's kinda freaky when I follow orders, I know," Tony grit, slipping his helmet back on and switching to the comm line only Steve would hear. "But we really should go. I don't want to have you break up with me here in front of everyone."

Steve choked, trying to hold face in front of the other Avengers and the SHIELD agents milling around. There was something crushed in his blue eyes, and the cold in Tony's chest seemed to spread. "Tony... I wouldn't... I'll go."

"Smart move, Cap," Tony let pass through his armor's speakers, and he stalked out of the bridge to make his way to the flight deck.

* * *

The flight was silent across the comm line, with Steve's head tucked against the neck of Tony's armor to shield his face from the rushing air. Inside Tony's helmet, he was deep in conversation with JARVIS, hacking the codes in SHIELD's mainframe to get into security feeds. He was trying to convince himself he was doing it for Steve, not to size up a rival in order to take him down.

They touched down easily on the balcony of Avengers Tower, Steve still holding tightly to Tony. Tony retracted the faceplate so he could talk without the impersonal feeling of the comm line.

"I want out of the suit, so you probably need to move," Tony said coolly, defenses coming up out of habit. Tony wasn't ready for this conversation, though he knew it was coming. He thought he was going to puke in anticipation of it. Steve was not going to let something like this just go.

Steve shook his head, pulling far enough away to look Tony in the face. His blue eyes were bright with sunlight reflecting in his unshed tears. "No, maybe you should leave it on. You should probably knock some sense into me," Steve said, his voice tired and resigned. "It can't be possible, can it? It probably isn't even him. What am I doing, Tony?"

"I don't know, but you're in my way," Tony said, moving Steve to the side so he could walk along the suit's dismantling system. He was back down to his business attire as he moved into the common area's living room, Steve trailing along behind him.

"So, are you going to kick me out now? Push me away?" Steve asked, following Tony into the elevator, pushing the button for Tony's workshop for him. 

Tony just clenched his jaws and focused on the bottom corner of the brushed steel doors, trying not to remember all the times they've kissed right in this elevator, frantic and up against that wall, slow and hot, and sweet and so new. He didn't want to remember looking at Steve, watching him shrug with that bright _why not?_ smile that turned their worlds upside down and spun them together. Because Steve could give that same shrug and their world would fall apart.

"Tony, don't shut me out already..." Steve whispered, leaning into Tony's space to put his head on Tony's shoulder.

It was so hard not to just shrug him off. "I'm not kicking you out."

"Good. Because I don't want to go."

"But you might want to move things back to your floor," Tony said, pushing past Steve to step into his workshop as the elevator doors opened.

Steve stood there, breath hitching painfully. "Just like that? You'd just... I'm not letting you go, Tony. It's probably not even him."

Tony stopped, swinging around to glare hard. "And if it is him? You're going to drop me then?"

"I never said I'd leave you. Not once."

Tony shook his head and stalked farther into his workshop. "But it's crossed your mind."

"How can you claim to know what's on my mind?" Steve let out a frustrated sound. "God, Tony! Are you listening to yourself? You're mad at me for something I haven't even considered!"

Marching right back into Steve's space, Tony eyes were wild and furious. "You can't tell me that you don't still love him. That you don't feel something for him, even now. All those years with him, all that history, and you have it back. And what the hell am I?"

Steve glanced around him, his eyes casting around for a focal point that wasn't the pain on Tony's face. "This is different, Tony. I never... I never stopped loving him. But you..." Steve bit his lip, closing his eyes against the sting before opening them to look at Tony. "Him being here hasn't changed anything I feel for you, Tony. I still love you just as much as I had before."

Tony's jaw worked, but it took a few moments to find the words he wanted. "I'm not going to give you up. I will fight tooth and nail for you, do you understand?"

"This isn't some fight, some battle you can knock out the park, Tony," Steve said in exasperation.

Shrugging, Tony made his way over to his workbench. "We'll see about that."

"Sir," JARVIS chimed in, "the feed is succesfully cracked. Shall I route the video through?"

"Put it on Steve's tablet." At Steve's questioning tone, Tony shrugged again. "Got into SHIELD's security feeds. You can go watch him."

"Tony... why?"

"Why else would I do something so stupid?" he grit out, keeping his back to Steve. He won't voice his answer of _I did it for you._

* * *

_Early spring came along with warmer afternoons and a little more daylight in the evenings, giving Bucky the perfect excuse to drag Steve along with him to Coney Island. It wasn't that Steve didn't like to go, but he wasn't very much a fan of watching Bucky flirt with all the girls that seemed to pass by. It caused an ache in Steve's chest that wasn't quite an asthma attack and left him irritable and sulky. Steve supposed he was lucky Bucky never really seemed to notice, too interested in keeping an eye out for a pretty skirt to chase than paying attention to Steve._

_Dinner this one particular evening was hot dogs slathered in mustard from Nathan's Famous, followed by candy apples for dessert._

_Bucky hummed along to_ When You're Smiling _just like he had as it played on the Seeburg piano in the arcade. They leaned against a wall in the lengthening evening shade of the apple vendor as Steve ate away at his bright red treat._

_"Look at you, Steve. I can't take you anywhere," Bucky snickered. He licked at his thumb and made to clean away the sticky redness smeared by the apple at the corner of Steve's mouth._

_Thinking he could get it just fine on his own, Steve slipped his tongue along the seam of his lips, liking at the corner of his mouth--_

_And licking at Bucky's thumb. Damp with spit and just a little salty against his tongue, Steve knew it should have been gross. But instead it drummed up that godforsaken feeling of heat and urgency and_ want _. He drew his tongue back into his mouth as fast as he could, wanted to jerk away._

_But their eyes met._

_Awkward, afraid, and burning._

__Oh. __

_Bucky yanked his hand back and coughed, clearing his throat. "I think we need to head home, anyway. Can't have you catching a cold."_

_Steve didn't argue, not with the cool air off the ocean becoming a chill breeze as the sun started slipping below the horizon. It was fully dark by the time they made it back to the boarding house, greeting Mrs. Gruszecki in the kitchen to get some hot tea for Steve. She bustled and fretted enough around Steve that he wasn't able to do a thing as Bucky slipped away, up to their room in the attic._

_So Steve braved the fussing on his own, letting Mrs. Gruszecki wrap him in a musty afghan and gossip about Mr. Moretti planning to move out for the second time this year to be with some woman. When she thought he was sufficiently warmed up, she let Steve go with another hot mug and the afghan draped around him like a shaw._

_Careful not to spill a drop of his tea, Steve took to the three flights of stairs at a slow pace, knocking on the attic door as he made it to the top of the last set. When Bucky didn't answer, Steve fumbled with his mug and the blanket, trying not to drop either as he pulled up on the doorknob and shoved in the door, wincing as it unstuck from the frame with a crack and scraped on the warped flooring._

_The room was lit by the little lamp sitting on the small desk, casting a warm glow over the tiny room. The little heater was humming in the corner, warming up the room against the chill of the night as it seeped in through the tiny round window facing the street. With it's sloping ceilings, the room was just big enough for one bed to take up a whole side of the room, a chest of drawers, a little desk, and a trunk in the corner where the ceiling slanted too low for anything else._

_The flooring creaked softly under Steve's shoes as he set his mug on the desk and then worked his shoes off. He hung his jacket over the back of the desk chair, right over top of Bucky's, and laid the afghan on the bed so he could get undressed. By the time Steve had his flannel pajamas on and his cooling tea finished, Bucky was shoving his way into the room. His hair was wet, skin clean and pink from a shower, his own cotton pajamas sticking to his damp skin._

_"You warmed up?" Bucky asked as he tossed his towel on the trunk and sat on the bed, an arms-length away from Steve._

_Steve frowned, not sure the reason of the sudden need for distance, or why Bucky was looking everywhere but at him. It made his chest feel a little tight, feel a little like the cold was creeping into him. "Yeah, I guess."_

_Bucky occupied himself by setting and winding the alarm clock before putting it back on the floor by the bed. "Lights out then, pal. The alarm's going off at four in the morning."_

_Steve didn't get up, willing Bucky to look his way, heart thudding in his chest. Something was off since they left Coney Island, making Steve's skin feel too tight and jumpy. The familiar buzz of heat had been sitting tight in his stomach since he licked Bucky's thumb and their eyes... Bucky's hazel-green eyes had met Steve's with something dark._

_"Was there something you needed to do?" Bucky asked, turning his head toward Steve, but looking at a point over Steve's head. Steve shook his head and sighed, getting up to turn off the lamp. Bucky folded back the blankets and settled in on the side against the wall, his way of shielding Steve against the chill of it, with it's lack of insulation. Steve climbed in after him, pulling the blankets up around their ears, and curled up tightly in hope the sheets would warm up soon._

_When Steve shivered, Bucky sighed and turned on his side, wrapping himself around Steve in a warm hug and tucking his knees up behind Steve's. Their legs tangled, and when Bucky's cold toes brushed against Steve's ankle, Steve gasped aloud and shivered again, but for a much hotter reason._

_It happened, sometimes, the feeling in his gut becoming heavy and his body betraying him, but he could will it to leave. The fear of humiliation and the thought of disgust in Bucky's eyes usually helped enough to quell the demon taunting him._

_But Steve remembered licking Bucky's thumb, wet from Bucky's own mouth, and Steve whimpered softly over how it might not be so easy tonight._

_"Steve, you okay?" Bucky sounded worried, his arm tightening around Steve._

_Steve bit his lip and nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything and hoping Bucky could feel the motion on the pillow and understand._

_"No, you're not," Bucky said, breath hot on Steve's neck, making Steve want to squirm, his breath hitching with pain in his chest as he panicked. "I know you. What is it, Stevie? Your asthma?"_

_And as if on cue, as if summoned to punish the deviant desires in Steve, the tight band of asthma began its squeeze around his lungs. He gasped in near panic, the first few struggling breaths somehow always reminding him of his mother's dying rattle. The fear left him quickly as Bucky pulled Steve up to sit back against Bucky's chest. Bucky laced their fingers together and laid their hands against Steve's chest, coaxing Steve to breath with him. It was several long, terrifying minutes before Steve was no longer in danger, and Bucky dropped his forehead to Steve's shoulder._

_"That's never not going to scare the hell out of me," he said, sighing hotly against Steve's neck. It drew another whimper out of Steve and Bucky tensed up behind him. "Again?"_

_Bucky was hot against his back, all coiled intensity and urgency, and Steve was too weak from his attack to pull away. "No... I..."_

_Then Bucky shuffled gently, moving to lay Steve back against the bed, tucking his own pillow under Steve to prop him up._

_"I don't know how you always do this to me," he muttered, arranging the blankets back around them. "You get me all jumpy and then leave me high. Worse than any dame." He gave a rueful chuckle._

_"I'm sorry, Buck--" Steve started, but Bucky put a hand over his face._

_"Hush, you. I wouldn't trade you for the world, you know." There's something sad in Bucky's voice and it made Steve run hot and cold. "Not you... Not ever..." Steve felt Bucky's hand against his face, and_ oh _, his thumb brushing over Steve's bottom lip. Steve couldn't stop it, the moan in his throat, low and panicked and needy. "Christ, Steve... would you hate me?"_

_The sound Steve made was more like a sob than Bucky's name and he shook his head hard, adamant. He could never hate Bucky, never for this, not when he's wanted it for himself for so long. Wanted since Bucky's sweaty hand held his against the Cali-O-Scope._

_Bucky's lips closed over his, hesitant and urgent, with noses bumping and teeth clacking. And then Bucky tilted his head, and it was slow, hot, and wet. Nothing like Steve had ever thought, and it burned a hole in his core, left him wheezing against Bucky's mouth._

_"Hey, Stevie..." Bucky whispered against his lips, feathering kisses to Steve's eyelids. "Hey, baby boy... breathe... sleep..."_

_And Steve did._

* * *

Steve had to keep the volume muted, unable to handle the sound as well as the sight of Bucky strapped to a medical bed, drugged and reciting his name, rank, and serial. He could close his eyes to the image, pretend he wasn't there, that he had imagined the frantic man with Bucky's face. But he couldn't bring himself to listen to him, the low rumble that reminded him of hot Brooklyn summers sitting on rusted fire escapes, of cold New York winters huddled together under a pile of clothes and afghans, of furtive kisses in a dark alley and sharing pleasure on the bedroom floor or in a closet, as far from prying eyes as they could get.

He knew the cadence and timbre of that voice, those words especially--name, rank, serial--from Bucky mumbling in his sleep after his capture by HYDRA. It dug up memories of air scented with gunpowder and the tang of blood, the vacuum squelch of mud under his boots, sharp, bitter winters and heavy, humid summers. He could close his eyes and just the sound of Bucky's voice could take him back, back to the trenches and the Howling Commandos and War. 

Tracing the lines of Bucky's body, the screen brought touch functions up to the forefront, obscuring some of the color image with play, pause, and volume options. So strange, seeing Bucky in moving color on a screen in his hands, when the last time they were... _alive_ together, they would have been in black  & white on newsreels.

So much was different, and Steve was used to thinking he was all alone in this. Sure, Thor was learning the world along with Steve, but Thor was more like a foreigner in all this. Steve knew this world, but it felt like he was left behind, like someone moved in and changed it all while he was out of town. It made him ache and despair, until Tony wedged himself into Steve's life. But Thor and Tony didn't understand it, the lost feeling of something that used to be just there and, _ah_ , it's gone.

Now, Bucky was _here_ , and Bucky would know exactly what he was feeling because Bucky had been _there_ with Steve. Even when he shouldn't have been, Bucky was there; all the way up until he was gone, ripped away with no time for a goodbye.

"Heya, jerk..." Steve whispered in the silence, wishing Bucky could hear him. He'd have to wait to say it for the ears they were meant for, still sixty-four hours to go. 

The ache in his chest weighed heavier with each second ticking by on the streaming feed, watching Bucky sleep fitfully or thrash frantically against his bindings. As a medical team edged into the room and circled Bucky with syringes and latex gloves, Steve turned off the tablet and pushed it away. He grit his teeth against the shout of _leave him alone!_ and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes to stave off the sting of moisture. Taking a deep breath and hoping for calm, Steve curled upon his side, grabbing Tony's pillow to hold against his chest, tucking his face against it to breath in Tony.

Just as he had done with Bucky's pillow while Bucky had been away at boot-camp, back before...

Steve didn't know how many hours passed before the bedroom door opened, Tony leaning in the doorway. Neither bothered JARVIS with turning up the lights, instead they stayed in the dark of the late night.

"So, it's him?" Tony asked, pressing his forehead to the doorframe.

"Yeah," Steve breathed, tossing Tony's pillow back to its place at the head of the bed. "I don't know how, but yeah..."

The silence hung heavy over them, the dread and anxiety almost a heavy tang in the air. Steve couldn't take it for long.

"Come here," he whispered, uncurling to hold his hand out for Tony, even though he knew Tony wouldn't be able to see him.

Tony stumbled his way to the bed, tired and weary, and let Steve pull him into his arms. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, nuzzling into Tony's hair, taking in the familiar smell. Nothing like Bucky.

"Everything you've taught me, we can show him, now," Steve mouthed against the inky black of Tony's hair. "I want... I'd like us all to be happy. I really hope I'm not wishing for too much..."

Steve knew Tony wasn't sleeping, but Tony didn't make a reply of any kind, either. Steve's heart felt like it was sinking further in his chest.

* * *

He was finally coming around again, out of the fog made from a needle bite in his neck, and back into the metal and white room. It wasn't anything like with HYDRA, dank and brick, with the tang of copper in the air and on his tongue. This was different, even with the march of soldiers in dark armor passing by his window every so often. He shifted on the comfortable bedding, flexed his bandaged hands, and tugged at his restraints again, cringing as he jarred his shoulder, but still no give. At least they didn't chew into his arm, chafe with every movement, like it had while he was on Zola's metal table. Still, the comfort in his imprisonment didn't seem to quell the little pocket of panic that sat right between his lungs, making it hard to swallow.

He didn't know how he came to this place of metal halls and doors, like something from the Stark Exposition. The last thing he remembered was Steve reaching out for him and then he fell, oh god. He remembered falling and not being able to breathe to scream anymore and pain so sharp it took the world from him. 

And suddenly there was Steve on the other side of glass and metal and Bucky didn't know how he had gotten there, or how Steve was on the other side for that matter, or how his hands were such a wreck. He just knew he wanted to be on the other side with Steve, because. _Steve_. 

In war, in peace, in heaven or hell; wherever Steve was, it was the only place Bucky wanted to be.

When the door slid open, Bucky found himself tensing and gritting his teeth in anticipation of another round of needles and prodding. But instead of the nurses in very plain gray clothing, a man in a dark suit and a redheaded woman in a very snug, black catsuit stepped in before the door shut. He eyed them warily, his name and serial number waiting on his tongue.

"Sergeant Barnes," started the woman, approaching slowly. "My name is Agent Natasha Romanoff, and this is Agent Phil Coulson. We're agents of SHIELD."

Crossing his arms casually in front of him, the man, Coulson, rocked once on his feet. "The name might not ring a bell to you, but perhaps the Strategic Science Research division does? We are the next evolution of the SSR, made to continue after the war."

Bucky blinked. "... War's over?"

"It's been over. There's a lot we need to explain to you," Romanoff said. "But there are a lot of things we need you to help us understand, too."

"If you're with the SSR, then why am I tied down? I'm not the enemy here," Bucky grit, pulling again at one of his wrist restraints. 

She put her hand on his restraint and looked him in the eyes. It was like she was searching for something in him, something he felt he should know. He thought that maybe she was trying to be intimidating, but instead she seemed... _curious_. Like what she was finding in him was different than what she had expected. "It was a precaution," she said slowly, like he would run if he could. "You were disoriented when you woke, and you hurt yourself and a few others. We just wanted to keep you calm until we could figure out how to handle the situation."

"If you are willing to cooperate with us, we can remove the restraints," Coulson added, stepping forward. "We need to debrief you on your last mission. And bring you up to speed on the current situation."

"I thought you said war was over." Bucky looked between the two of them.

"We won against the Nazis, if that's what you're asking," Romanoff said easily. "And at this time, there are no pressing conflicts."

"But the world has changed, Sergeant Barnes," Coulson said, calm. "First, we need you to tell us what you can about your last mission. What do you remember?"

Eyes finding a fixed point on the wall between the two of them, Bucky swallowed back the familiar litany of his serial number. It was better than remembering the fall, but if he talked they might let him see Steve. "... We were on a train moving through the Swiss Alps, going after Zola. But I fell out the hole in the side... Christ, am I dead?" He wanted to rub his face, pull at his hair, but his hands, his damn hands, were still tied down.

"You're not dead," Romanoff said, and something like a very small smile moved her lips. "You're very much alive, and we're very surprised by that. Are you sure there isn't anything you can remember before waking up here?"

Bucky shook his head. "The world went black. Then I'm staring through a metal door at Cap, watching him try to beat it down with his shield... Is he here, Captain Rogers?"

Coulson nodded, then shook his head. "He's not here at this time. He'll be back momentarily, when his clearance is no longer revoked."

"It appears that crashing through barricades can have you considered emotionally compromised," Romanoff smiled gently, her hands working at his restraint cuff, freeing one of his hands.

He immediately flexed his wrist and what he could of his bandaged fingers, did the same with the other hand as Coulson freed it, and then rubbed at his face. He felt weary and lost. "So... where am I, anyway?"

"One of SHIELD's bases. This one in particular is the Helicarrier. We're currently ten miles out from the New York Harbor," explained Coulson. "Don't think of leaving, unless you're willing to swim. And it's a hell of a drop first."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bucky muttered, sitting up properly. "So... there's more going on here, then?"

Romanoff looked to Coulson before she turned her focus back on Bucky. "Yes. After you fell, you spent a period of time... frozen. The details aren't a hundred percent clear. We believe that whatever tests Zola had performed on you for Schmidt has caused some lasting effects. Much like the serum that made Steve into a Super Soldier. We think that's how you survived. It's how he survived."

"What are you saying?" Bucky asked, a feeling of dread curling in his gut.

"The fact that you healed faster than the other soldiers, could endure things just a little longer, go with a little less sleep," Coulson pointed out. "Not quite on the same level as Captain Rogers, but. The blood work and physical reports from your file with the SSR pretty much spell it out. HYDRA was trying to replicate Doctor Erskine's formula. You're the closest anyone's managed to get without... side effects. We think that's the only reason you could have survived this long."

Bucky shook his head, rubbed his face again. Nothing was adding up and he was getting really frustrated with the guessing game going on here. "What do you mean 'this long'? 'Frozen'? Pardon my French, lady, but what the fuck is going on!?"

Romanoff hesitated to take a breath before she spoke again. "Sergeant Barnes, since your fall in 1945, Captain Rogers flew a HYDRA plane into the Arctic a week after you were gone. He was frozen in a suspended animation until he was located and unfrozen five years ago. You, however, were lost. Returning to the site of your fall, there was no body to be found. It wasn't until recently that you were recovered, about seventy years since your fall."

Seventy years. Bucky drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush, blinking and shaking his head. "I'm guessing I was frozen the whole time, too?"

Coulson reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. "We have reason to believe that you weren't, or at least not the whole time. We don't have all the information we would like. We were actually hoping you would be able to remember and possibly fill us in." He looked over his phone for a second before storing it back inside his jacket. "Captain Rogers is on his way. We realize how great of a shock this is to you. It's our understanding that Rogers would be better at talking with you on the matter, seeing as how he's already been through this himself."

"Sure," Bucky said, voice hoarse, as he laid back against the medical bed. 

Not even a moment later, there was a tap on the door and it slid open to reveal Steve. Tall, broad shouldered, perfectly combed hair and all. Other than lacking his uniform and grime from battle, it was as if not even a day had passed since they'd seen each other last in 1945.

Except that Steve's eyes were bright as they looked at Bucky. Bright and wet, but no tears falling, and Bucky watched as Steve swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and his jaw clenched tight.

Romanoff put a gentle hand on Steve's arm and nodded to him. "He's all yours, Cap." With quiet steps, both agents made their way out of the room, leaving Bucky and Steve alone.

 _Seventy years_. Seventy years since he fell. And Steve had lost all that time, too. It was too hard to believe, like something out of a science-fiction pulp magazine.

Desperate to break the silence, to hear Steve and know that this wasn't some sort of dream or illusion in heaven, Bucky cleared his throat. "So, at least tell me we've got those flying cars."

The laugh Steve made was thick, like he was almost choking on it. He lurched forward, making his way to Bucky like starving man to food, and threw his arms around Bucky.

"How you doin, Stevie?" Bucky asked, rubbing at Steve's back, feeling him shudder out a breath against Bucky's shoulder.

"The best now," Steve laughed softly. "I got my best pal here."

As guards marched by the window, Bucky pushed at Steve. Anyone could look in on them and see the hug was going just a little too long. Steve resisted, a wall of warm muscles, and Bucky never wanted to give that up, but he pushed a little more insistently until Steve finally sat back.

"I never. Bucky. I never thought I'd see you again," Steve said, his voice a low rasp of emotions. "I can't believe... I'm so. You wouldn't believe the world now. But no," and that sob of a laugh again, "No flying cars yet. But Tony made a flying suit of armor! It's amazing. Oh, Buck, there's so much to tell you and show you!"

And Steve started in on how they were the last of the Howling Commandos, but Steve was given a new team in the face of coming war and how the Avengers were born...

* * *

_They had to be careful now, more careful than they'd ever been. Privacy was scarce in the field and on base, but especially so with everyone keeping an eye out for Steve._

_Now that he was bigger and stronger than he'd ever been, made a name for himself as a hero, everyone wanted a chance to shake Steve's hand and speak to him. And it made it much too difficult to pull Bucky aside and kiss him._

_All they had on the long trek from the HYDRA base were shared looks and the occasional brush against each other. Bucky wouldn't say yet what tortures he faced at the hands of Dr. Zola, but he refused to be treated like an invalid and took the spot at Steve's side for the long march._

_It was a week before Steve could see Bucky again after they'd made it to base camp, many of the rescued men were sent to London and other English towns for a little bit of R &R while they sorted out who was reporting where. Steve went through a debrief and a strategic planning session with the SSR team before he made his way to the pub, looking to throw his team together._

_The sudden appearance of Agent Carter that evening made for a rather awkward surprise, leaving Bucky somewhat quiet and snippy after she left._

_"I can't really blame her, I guess," Bucky finally said, after tipping back one too many drinks. "Chiseled like Greek marble, now. All the dames are gonna want in your pants."_

_Steve cleared his throat and hoped no one nearby was paying enough attention to hear. "You know me, Buck, I wouldn't..."_

_"Sure you would. What was that choice bit of calico, all dolled up in red? You were eying her like you could eat her alive," Bucky sighed. "If you want to, you'd better do it before she lets herself get snatched up."_

_Shaking his head, Steve inched closer to Bucky, speaking as low as he could. "Bucky, I couldn't. Not with... and... it'd be serious. You know I couldn't..."_

_Bucky turned his head just a little, bringing his glass up to his lips so it covered his mouth in case anyone was looking their way. "So, go be serious with her. You deserve it. A wife, maybe kids... Something normal, for once." He gulped down the last of the liquor in his glass, then pushed himself off the stool to stand on wobbly legs._

_"Bucky, wait. Let me settle the tab first."_

_But Bucky waved him off, sauntering his way through the pub. "You do that, pal," he called, leaving Steve behind._

_It was two hours before Steve made his way back to his hotel room, having made sure the men chosen for his team would be well taken care of by the barkeeps as they continued their drinking. He looked for Bucky, hoping he could spot the fool somewhere before he got himself into trouble, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was a surprise for Steve to find him in his hotel room, attempting to push Steve up against the door before Steve could even flip on the light. Bucky's mouth was hot and tasted like whiskey, insistent and nipping against Steve's lips._

_"Took you long enough," Bucky breathed against Steve's jaw, mouthing his way along it._

_"Was looking for you. You're still drunk."_

_"Don't mean I don't want you any less." And Bucky pushed up against him, already eager against Steve's thigh. "How are you so damn tall now?"_

_Steve laughed, relieved and nervous, as he tried walking Bucky back toward the bed. The moment it creaked as Steve's weight settled on it, they both pulled back and listened, old habits of hiding their secret still strong._

_"We'll move to the floor," Steve whispered, getting Bucky to stand so he could strip the blankets from the bed to lay out._

_Bucky sat back down on the bed. "I swear, if it makes a sound, I don't care. We'll tell people you were practicing your dancing all night. And brushing up on PT in the morning."_

_"You expect to stick around that long?" Steve asked, getting to his knees before Bucky. His bigger hands fumbled with buttons he wouldn't have had problems with had he been smaller; another thing new to get used to with this new body._

_"I'm still on leave for a few more days. Why, you gonna leave me to slip in on your gal?" There's a bite to Bucky's voice that Steve's never heard before, despite the grin on Bucky's face. Apparently Bucky had drank enough to be petty, and Steve needed to tread carefully to avoid a fight._

_"What makes you think...? Oh, Bucky, no. I was thinking if you had to report in in the morning. I'm not even worried about her right now," Steve said, trying to take Bucky's hands in his. Bucky just jerked them away._

_"You used to be my..._ pal _, Steve. Nobody cared for you like I did. And now... Are you really even that kid from Brooklyn anymore?"_

_"You know I am, Buck."_

_"I don't even know this body anymore," Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse and low. "You sound the same and I see you, there in your eyes... But you're not my baby boy anymore, Steve..."_

_Steve drew Bucky down into another kiss, a slow, familiar quest of lips and tongue they'd shared many times in the quiet of their room in the boarding house. "I'm still your Steve," he breathed against Bucky's mouth. "Always your Steve."_

_Bucky followed him to the floor then, knee to knee with Steve, hands working at the buttons of Steve's uniform jacket. Despite still being drunk, Bucky's hands were gentle, had always been gentle with Steve. His jacket came off, his shirt and tie, and while Steve knew he should have been worried about his uniform being wrinkled as Bucky tossed them away, Steve couldn't care about it as he watched the look of awe and wonder fall over Bucky's face._

_"Christ, Steve..." Bucky let out on a breath, pressing a hand trembling ever so slightly to Steve's unfamiliar broad chest. "And... no asthma? No coughing?"_

_"I'm the closest thing to human perfection the world will probably ever see," Steve said, his smile sad. Sometimes he still couldn't help thinking about Dr. Erskine and how Steve and Schmit would be the only example of his life's work. "I heal faster and I'm practically immune to everything now. I can't get sick... I won't have to suffer on account of my own body anymore."_

_Bucky was reverent with his hands, sliding his fingers lightly over his shoulders and stomach, tracing the lines of Steve's body to relearn him. It was a sudden shock when Bucky leaned in to nuzzle at Steve's neck, only to sink his teeth into Steve's shoulder, hard and sharp. With a gasp, Steve's back arched in surprised pleasure, his hands gripping at Bucky's jacket and pulling him in close. It only lasted a few seconds before Bucky gave a quick, hard suck, pulling back to look over the damage._

_"What the... What was that for?" Steve demanded, his voice a rasp of arousal._

_"Mine," Bucky growled, shoving at Steve's shoulders to lay him back and trying to pin him down, and Steve was started enough by the possessiveness to let him. It sent a thrill up Steve's spine, an electric shiver that only Bucky had ever managed to give Steve. "I don't care how many skirts you chase. Have your Carter dame. Marry her, make her happy. But you're still mine."_

_"Yes," Steve breathed, he swore, he promised. Steve pulled Bucky down to him, so easy now with this body, and their mouths crushed in a kiss, hot and wet as Steve sucked the last taste of liquor off Bucky's tongue._

_He worried that Bucky was still drunk enough not to remember this the next morning. He worried that being sober, Bucky would give up on Steve, expecting he would turn to Agent Carter seriously. But all his worries slid away as Bucky bit on his bottom lip and tugged, drawing Steve's attention back on him. It left Steve gasping in pleasure, not breathlessness for once, and he was desperately pulling at Bucky's clothes. They peeled away all the barriers and someone may have lost a button along the way, but nothing mattered when Bucky moved against Steve, his hot and flushed body sliding against Steve's hypersensitive bare skin._

_"Talk to me, Steve," Bucky whispered, grinding against him with a roll of his hips, their cocks sliding together between their bellies._

_Steve opened his eyes, didn't remember ever closing them, and stared up at Bucky. Bucky, who was watching his face, his eyes lighting up as they made contact, like_ ah, I've found you _. "Oh, Bucky," he sighed, smiling and biting his lip in pleasure._

_"Steve..." Bucky brought his hand between them, wrapping it around both their lengths and stroked idly as they rocked together._

_Drawing Bucky down, he mouthed oaths against Bucky's lips. "Love you, Buck... Yours always..."_

_"'Always..." Bucky moaned back, Steve swallowing the sound of it with a hungry kiss. They moved faster, Bucky's hand tightening it's grip. Steve joined him with one hand, wrapping it around where Bucky's hand didn't cover to lengthen the gripping warmth for them to thrust into. His other hand pushed into Bucky's dark hair and held on, keeping him from pulling too far back between kisses. Not that Bucky moved far, staring into Steve's eyes when he could, never looking down at how their bodies moved together._

_Bucky's eyes fluttered, edging ever closer to completion. "My Steve..." he mumbled against Steve's cheek, panting heavily with each rock of his hips._

_Steve loved it, heat in his gut burning hotter just knowing he was bringing Bucky with him to an end. He turned his head to kiss at Bucky's jaw, the sensitive skin just below it, and as his teeth grazed over it, he gave into an urge and sank them in. Bucky gave a strangled cry as his body bucked, a hot wetness spilling over Steve's hand and chest. "Mine..." Steve hissed, as he followed after him._

_Bucky lasted long enough to flop over on the blanket beside Steve before passing out, leaving Steve to laugh quietly in exasperation as he moved to clean them both up and tuck Bucky into the bed. He picked up their clothes, setting them out neatly on a chair to avoid anymore wrinkles, before laying down beside Bucky to get a few hours of sleep._

_Bucky opened his eyes and watched groggily as Steve put his uniform back on in the morning, his eyes lingering over Steve's shoulders and where his bite mark would have been, though it was already healed and gone. "Where you going again?"_

_"Meeting with Howard Stark. If I don't get pulled into another strategy meeting, I'll be back after lunch, I hope."_

_"Popular with all the kids now, huh?" Bucky groaned, turning onto his back for a stretch._

_Steve sat on the edge of the bed and took Bucky's hand to kiss it. "You're the only one that matters to me."_

_"Don't forget your girl."_

_Letting out a sigh, Steve kissed Bucky's hand again. "Not yet. After the war. I'll tell her and... see where that goes."_

_"You really like her, don't you?"_

_"You'd like her, too," Steve smiled._

_Bucky lurched to a sitting position to give Steve a quick kiss. "Alright. Don't be late. I'll meet you back here for dinner."_

_"Sure thing, Sergeant," Steve said as he straightened up his uniform and slipped out into the hall._

* * *

"After a week of constant evaluations from our psychological division, we can't get anything out of Sergeant Barnes," Fury said, standing before the Avengers sitting on his command bridge. "If he truly is the Winter Soldier, that era in his mind seems to be completely erased. Short of calling in favors with Charles Xavier over in Westchester, our experts don't think we'll get anything else out of him."

Coulson picked up for Fury. "Though he may not remember his past as an assassin, he seems to have the muscle memory of it. Physical examinations find him to be rather... dangerous. His reaction times and agility are near par to Cap's, as is his endurance and tolerance for pain. There was extensive damage done to his left shoulder in the past, but do n't look at it as a disadvantage for him--he does not favor the arm, and striking it does not incapacitate him like one would expect. Try not to sneak up on him, or you'd be needing the Hulk or Iron Man if you to take him down without too much of a fuss."

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Steve said, looking between the Director and Agent.

"We don't know that the Red Room hasn't set up triggers of some sort in his mind," Natasha said, her lips pursing in a sad frown. "He doesn't remember anything, but as of right now, short of a telepath going over his mind with a fine-tooth comb, we don't know what is lurking in his brain. They could have left triggers for him to attack a target or kill himself, and we wouldn't know until the _mission_ kicked in for him. It's dangerous to have him in public until we know there is no mental trap waiting to be sprung."

Steve shook his head. "He'll go stir crazy if you keep him inside all the time. You can't do that to him."

Fury walked around the table to stand at Steve's side. "As it is, we actually _can't_ do that to him. He may be a danger to society if he should snap, but until he does, he's just a man returned from the dead, with no way for us to prove he was ever an assassin. Keeping him imprisoned here against his will is not acceptable. That being said... SHIELD would like to release Sergeant Barnes into the custody of the Avengers."

"He's yours as soon as you're ready," Coulson said, expression as unassuming as ever. "Hill is with him now, discussing release forms."

Steve blinked, thinking he would have had to put up more of a fight than this. "You're letting him go? Just like that?" 

"No, not just like that," Fury said, rolling his eyes. "What kind of man do you take me for, Rogers? There are some parameters that need to be set and rules you will _not_ disobey. Just because he's not currently our prisoner doesn't mean he won't be under constant surveillance. Stark, can we have your AI on duty for that?"

"JARVIS answers only to me, so don't go getting any ideas," Tony said loftily.

"I don't care who your computer answers to, Stark. I just want to know that _if_ and _when_ Captain Roger's friend goes off the deep-end, your AI will alert the proper authorities here at SHIELD."

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, apparently generating a new string of code for JARVIS' command files.

"As long as he does not leave Avengers Tower, does not harm anyone, and does not actively plan to harm anyone, SHIELD isn't too worried about him. If any one of those three conditions are broken, SHIELD wants him back, and you all are required to do what you must to see he is brought back into SHIELD's care. If someone loses a life to him... I'm sorry, Cap, but he'll have to lose his own in return."

Steve nodded, steeling himself against the possibilities of a worst case scenario happening. "Understood, sir."

Fury looked to the rest of the Avengers for agreement on the terms. "Now that that's settled, I have other business to attend. Romanoff, I need you with me. The rest of you, feel free to get the hell off my helicarrier."

As they all began to disperse from the conference table, Steve moved to Tony, pulling him aside. "Are you... Will you be okay with him there?"

Tony sniffed, quirking his mouth. "You'll be happy, right? You'll have him there and you can figure out the future together. And I'll just stand back and watch you--"

"Tony, no--"

"--both flounder around with no clue. What did you _think_ I was going to say?"

"I'm not leaving you, Tony."

Tony rolled his eyes and gave Steve an annoyed smirk. "I didn't say you were."

Very gently, Steve reached out for Tony's hands, holding them. "Thank you, Tony. I just... I want you to know him. For all I loved him, he's all the family I really ever had. Maybe you'll love him one day, too."

Tony pursed his lips and tried to smile, looking more like a grimace. He let go of one of Steve's hands to pat at Steve's shoulder. "Go get'em, soldier. Bring your boy home."

Steve gave him a little mock salute and half-hearted smile before heading off to the medical bay to find Agent Hill. He nearly ran her over as he cleared the corner.

"Captain," she nodded in greeting, quickly recovering after the near-miss. "I suppose you're here to collect Sergeant Barnes?"

Steve couldn't keep the smile on his face from growing, letting out a deep breath he felt he'd been holding since years gone by. "I am. Is he ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Bucky said, stepping out of the medical room where he'd practically been held hostage. Wearing a simple pair of khakis and SHIELD issue teeshirt, Bucky looked like he'd just woken from ice the same as Steve had five years ago. "So, you showing me this future or what, punk?"

Steve couldn't help himself at that moment, taking the few steps to pull Bucky into a hug. "Jerk," he muttered with a smile as Bucky awkwardly pat him on the back.

"Hey, cut the sap for me and let's blow this joint."

It seemed like a whirlwind after that, taking a Quinjet to a drop-off point in Brooklyn and Happy picking them up so they could just look at the sights and changes and lights. Bucky was full of questions, and groans, too, when something he'd really enjoyed was gone from the world they remembered. From Brooklyn to Manhattan, Happy drove them around like tourists all the way up to Avengers Tower.

"I still don't get how you have this bizarre luck," Bucky said, looking up at the monstrosity of a building. "You, ending up with the superhero pulp equivalent of our old Howling Commandos, living with them in a penthouse--like it's a treehouse, for chrissake. You can have anything you've ever wanted. I don't know if I should be jealous or proud that you've finally got the chance to have everything you deserve."

"You deserve it, too, Buck. You were a hero when you fell," Steve said, watching Bucky frown.

"I'm no hero."

"You are. You... died... trying to protect me. That makes you a hero in my book." Bucky's frown turned into a wry grin. 

"And I suppose your book is the only one that counts?"

"And don't you forget it," Steve smiled, slinging his arm around Bucky's shoulder.

They took the residential elevator from the garage straight up to Steve's old floor, letting Bucky look over the balcony to the common area below as he unlocked the door. As Steve did a quick search for his spare set of keys, Bucky didn't follow him in as he listened to Clint playing in the entertainment room.

"What's that sound?"

"I think Clint's racing," Steve smiled, handing over Bucky's keys and leading him down the flight of stairs to the common area. Looking up, one could see the balconies of each floor, a small landing area in front of the door where they could get off the elevator or take the stairs. Steve pointed out each floor going up, 

"Yours, Dr. Banner's, Thor's (even though he's in Asgard right now), Natasha's, Clint's, and Tony's at the top." 

The open space under the balcony was a living room of sorts, with sofas and coffee tables, much like a well lived in waiting room. A wide hall led back into a large open kitchen and dining area, with stainless steel appliances, dark cabinets and countertops, and a long table with enough space to fit ten people. 

Across the hall from the kitchen was the entertainment room, with sofas and chairs, shelves of media, and a whole wall dedicated to a massive widescreen television. Hidden surround sound speakers were pumping out the sounds of Clint's game as he barreled a soupped up sports car around a track.

"This is Clint," Steve introduced the archer, but Bucky was too mesmerized by the screen to notice until Clint paused to actually shake his hand. 

"I hear you're a great shot," Clint smirked, leaning back against the seat cushions.

"So they say," Bucky shrugged. "Not like I can show off, though, considering I'm not allowed to touch a weapon without going back to the flying prison. So, what sorta racing is this?"

Steve settled in and watched as Clint showed Bucky how to use a controller and play the game, describing all the different car makes and models and how to modify them to improve their racing abilities. At some point, Bruce wandered in and took a chair farthest from where Bucky sat. 

When Steve introduced them, Clint turned off the TV and let Bruce ask Bucky about what he felt like after his time in the Hydra camp, if he could tell the difference of having a serum like Steve's in his system. When Natasha made her way in, she sat on the other side of Clint and greeted Bucky, sliding right into the conversation he was having with Bruce. Tony was the last to join them, breezing his way in with a greasy tank-top and forced smile. He sat beside Steve and threw his feet up on the coffee table. 

"And you must be the man of the hour," he said, mouth quirking and nose twitching.

"I wouldn't be wrong in guessing you're Tony Stark, then?" Bucky asked. They were too far apart to shake hands, but Steve was quietly glad for that. 

"The one and only. Now, I'm pretty sure Steve has told you all about us, and that's not really fair since we weren't there to defend ourselves. So how about you tell us about yourself, and if you can sneak in any embarrassing stories about Steve, that would make up for it."

And so it started, the barrage of questions. _Has Steve always been so...? Just how tiny was he? Did Steve really...?_ And Bucky laid it on thick, having an active audience he could spout all the best and most embarrassing things about Steve. He could see it in Bucky's eyes, in his smile, that Bucky was sharing his thoughts on one of his favorite subjects, and with a group of people that understood; not some dumb clucks that were hanging on to his every word for a chance with Bucky.  
An ache settled in Steve's chest, heavy and painful. What was he doing? Tony was sitting beside him, shifting his leg so his thigh pressed against Steve's and it reminded him. Reminded Steve of how every time he looked at Bucky, he remembered what they had and how he lost it, but the feelings were still there. 

He’d wanted to tell Bucky, be honest with him and tell him how things were with Tony. But he'd look at Bucky, with his hazel eyes and a devilish smile, and he couldn't. Put it off promising that he'd wait until they were alone, without SHIELD agents to barge in or security cameras watching them, handle it with the secrecy they've handled their whole relationship in the past.

He was being selfish, he knew, but he just got him back. And the last thing he wanted was losing him again so soon.

The moment Tony put a casual hand on Steve's thigh, he knew it was too late. He closed his eyes against the strangled off words of Bucky's punchline, unable to look at what probably showed on Bucky's face.

"You folks are swell," Bucky said, sounding subdued compared to his eager and laughing tones just moments before. "And... I'm glad you've taken care of Steve... since I couldn't."

Steve finally looked up, but Bucky wouldn't meet his eyes now as he got to his feet. "Bucky..." 

"Pardon me for being rude, but I think all this future malarkey's catching up with me. Excuse me..."

"Bucky," Steve called again, but Bucky didn't stop in his retreat, taking the stairs up to Steve's old apartment and letting himself in.

"Did he not... know?" Bruce asked, waving at Steve in a vague gesture.

Steve swallowed and shook his head. "I... didn't have the heart to tell him..."

"You're a national _gay_ icon, he'd find out eventually," Clint pointed out.

"That's... not it. He knew..." Steve said. "He and I... We once..." He looked to Tony. 

Tony, who clenched his jaw as if to hold back the disappointment, the hurt that was obvious in his eyes. "You didn't tell him about us." It wasn't a question.

"I didn't know how," Steve said, shaking his head.

"You're a tactical genius, Steve. Did you give it any thought?" Tony's words were laced with a bite.

"He's just come back into my life, Tony! He's in a strange place with nowhere to go. I couldn't push him away..."

Tony sniffed, his jaw working as he stared hard through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Manhattan skyline. "You better go get him, then."

"Tony, no... Please, let's not do this right now. Not in front of everyone..."

Bruce got up and started edging toward the door. "It's alright. The pressure's a little too heavy for me here, anyway. Night, all."

"I don't know," Clint started, folding his arms over his chest. "This is kinda like a train wreck. Really don't wanna watch, but I can't keep my eyes away."

Tony snarled, "Get the fuck out of here, Barton," at the same time Natasha grabbed him by the ear and started hauling him out of the room, leaving Steve and Tony alone.

"I'm going to tell him," Steve said, his voice determined despite the sorrow rolling in his stomach.

"Sure," Tony was being flippant now, defenses going up. "You go do that. I suppose, if you come to bed tonight, you'll let me know how that goes. And if you don't, well. That's that, isn't it?"

Steve tried reaching out for Tony, to stop him, pull him in, to do something, but Tony brushed him off, making his way out of the room and more than likely to his workshop. Or his stash of liquor.

There was no squaring of his shoulders, no steady march to Steve's gait. He hung his head like a little boy, knowing how much wrong he had done. In trying to spare one heart, he was now breaking three; the hearts of the men he loved, and his own. He made his way into his old apartment, knowing the open floor plan well enough that he didn't need to turn on any of the lights. Knocking on the first door he came across, the bathroom, Steve knew he had the right place by the muffled, angry curse inside.

"Bucky, please..."

"Go away."

"I need to explain..."

"Well, maybe I don't want to hear it. Especially since it wasn't so important you couldn't tell me before."

Steve opened the bathroom door anyway, slipping in to push it closed and lean against it. He found Bucky huddled in between the sink and the shower of the spacious bathroom. "I owe you the truth."

"No, I get it. I get it. I've been gone for awhile. I shouldn't even be here," Bucky said, his mouth pursed in a miserable grimace. "Hey, just tell me he's good to you. Is he?"

Steve slid to the floor, back against the bathroom door. "Yeah," he said quietly, pulling his knees up to his broad chest.

Bucky tipped his head back, shutting his eyes tight, like when he thought he was going to lose Steve to an asthma attack or the flu. Just like he used to when he was scared he was going to lose Steve. "Christ, Steve, is he as smarmy as his pa? He looks like he could be."

The smile was weak on Steve's face, not that Bucky was looking at him. "He has his moments. I know how you didn't care for Howard, but Tony... he's something else completely."

"You could have just told me."

"I didn't know how..." Steve tried, the sound of his heartbreak caught up in his throat, choking him. "I thought I'd lost you forever and I didn't... I didn't know I'd lose my heart to him like this. This isn't like Peggy... Gosh, Buck... Everything's so different now and... we don't have to hide it. We don't have to hide it anymore..."

Bucky opened his eyes, but the hurt that was there cut like a knife. "You mean you and Stark don't have to hide it. There's no we anymore, Steve."

"I'm so sorry, Bucky..."

"I thought I was dead, Steve. But I woke up seventy years after I fell, still remembering the pain of it," Bucky choked on his words. "But this... this hurts more..."

Steve folded his arms over his knees and buried his face against them, shutting his eyes tight against the blur and sting in his eyes. No amount of apologies was going to make up for this, Steve knew. He said it once more anyway, hoping against hope it would smooth something over, but the silence hung heavy from Bucky until Steve got to his feet and made his way out.

The trudge up to Tony's and his penthouse felt like the longest uphill battle he'd ever faced, each step a fight. He knew he should have said something sooner, and though it would have hurt Bucky, maybe it wouldn't have hurt Tony, too. He was breaking them both with his selfishness. 

Steve fought every step not to give in and just end it all, to go sleep on a couch in the common area. Having one and not the other wasn't fair to the one without, and he should have neither pay for his selfishness.

But he promised Tony he wouldn't leave him, and he wouldn't. He couldn't break a promise to Tony. And so he slipped into the penthouse, slipped into bed.

"Steve?" Tony reached out, putting his hand over Steve's under the blankets.

"I'm here, Tony..." 

He'd made his decision, but it still hurt so much.

* * *

Bucky tossed and turned, the anger and hurt rolling in his gut like acid, burning at his insides, his chest, his heart.

It felt like only yesterday they were at war, with Bucky watching Steve's back, protecting him. His scrawny, belligerent angel with his bent and tarnished halo, now changed into an archangel with a blazing shield. It seemed like he had just gotten used to that amazing feeling that this was what his Steve looked like on the inside all along.

And then he fell, and it was just like taking a nap, only to wake up in a whole other world.

Where Steve had found someone else overnight.

But it wasn't like that, was it? Bucky tried to make sense of it, that Steve had been awake in this time for some five years now and had mourned Bucky and tried to move on. The coincidence that Bucky had even survived to this time and was here with Steve was a complete freak accident. A miracle, maybe. But it didn't change the fact that Steve had lived without him, lived thinking Bucky was completely gone, for five years. 

God, so much _had_ changed. Not just the world, but even Steve, if only a little. He was still the same earnest, honest, righteous man Bucky had fell for when they were just boys. But there was something sweeter, more open in this Steve, like the future had did something good for him. Like the sharp, stubborn need to prove himself and low boiling aggression had eased out of him and Steve was just... _happy_. It was something Bucky had never managed.

And to find Stark's son drew this peaceful happiness out of Steve rankled Bucky to his core. If the son was anything like his father--an arrogant, skirt-chasing drunk--he didn't deserve someone like Steve. Hell, the man didn't even _know_ Steve as Bucky had, just the beautiful creature Steve had become after being pulled inside-out. He'd never even see the Steve that nobody ever wanted because they couldn't get past the old busted shell. 

No one had wanted the frail boy-sized body with it's fevers and asthma that Bucky knew at first, no one but Bucky himself. His Steve, with one foot in the grave because of his health, and the other foot soon to follow as he faced down any lugg or mook with the gall to bully someone on his watch.

The air was a little stale with disuse, but whole apartment still smelled like Steve, but especially the soft bed, even with it's fresh sheets and pillows, and the bathroom, with his soap. The pictures hanging on the walls, with frames they could have never afford in their time, were Steve's familiar style of art in pencils, charcoals, and watercolors. 

It looked nothing like _home_ to Bucky, nothing like the orphanage, or the little room in the boarding house, or their tent as they trampled through Europe. It looked like something from the future with steel cabinets in the kitchen and fancy, streamlined furniture, everything shiny and new. But little bits of Steve were everywhere he turned: baseballs sitting on a bookshelf, a stray doodle with a reminder tacked near a light-switch, shoes set neatly by the door, horrendously colored afghans draped over the sofa. Bucky paced and poked around, hunting for some point on a wall that didn't haunt him, leaving him hollow and miserable.

He found himself practically kicking the door down to get away, to get out of the apartment and, Christ, just anywhere else. He couldn't leave the building, but he'd take anything, be anywhere if it got him away from Steve's things. It was an hour or two before sunrise, so Bucky suspected there wouldn't be anyone moving around in the common area as he made his way down the stairs. 

A sound in the kitchen proved him wrong, but before Bucky could retreat, Stark stepped into view, carrying an overly large mug. Their eyes locked and anger flared, red hot and violent in Bucky's stomach, leaving him ready to spit acid, to burn at the other man the moment he opened his mouth.

"I have yet to see how you even merit being my replacement."

Something dark and steely shone in Stark's wide, expressive eyes for just a moment, before a very practiced look of boredom fell into place with a lazy quirk of his mouth. "Not so much a replacement as an upgrade. Welcome to the future, Bucky."

"That's James Barnes to you. You haven't earned yourself any points in my eyes yet."

Stark shrugged, looking so nonchalant over the whole encounter, but Bucky could see the white-knuckle clench he had on the mug handle. "If you don't like it here, I know SHIELD is more than welcome to take you in. You don't have to stay on Steve's account. I'd rather you didn't, actually."

"Of course you don't want me here," Bucky snorted. "I'm a reminder of all the things Steve once had, all the things he could call his own. I remind Steve of what he's lost. And now he can have it back."

"Oh, you're trying to make me jealous. That's cute," Stark smiled smugly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Steve can have whatever he wants here. Not just here, in this Tower with me, but here in this time period. Because Steve loves telling everyone he's in love with me. We've told the world. And he's proud of it. I don't know how you think your quaint memories are going to draw him back, considering how he hates remembering all the hiding and shame."

That stung, a sharp blow to Bucky's pride. He had always thought Steve was happy with their secret, that as long as they were in love, the fear and shame wouldn't matter. Bucky grit his teeth against the burning ache in his chest. "So damn arrogant, just like your father."

Stark's imperious calm swept away in an instant and that dark, steely look was back, written in all the lines of his face. "You want arrogant, I can show you arrogant. Get the hell out of my house--"

"Stop it!" Steve's voice rang out from above them, echoing off the glass of the windows and the balconies hanging over the open space of the common area. They both looked up to him, Bucky half expecting him to make the six story jump to get between them. Instead, Steve took the stairs but made it down nearly as fast. 

"What is going on here? Did you both go looking for a fight?"

"He started it," Stark threw out, giving Bucky an evil eye. 

"What are you, a child?" Bucky glared. 

"I was going to my workshop. You ambushed me," Stark bit back, pointing in Bucky's face.

"Stick that finger back in my face again, and you won't have it anymore."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Stand down, the both of you!" Steve shouted, hands going to both their chests, pushing them apart. 

"Bucky, please. Tony's letting you stay here because I asked him to. Because I want you here with me. Don't make me regret that. And Tony..." Steve swallowed, his jaw tensing. "He's hurting... _I_ hurt him... Please, I don't want you to take it out on each other."

Bucky could see the brightness in Steve's eyes, the tears there at the edge that never fell. The familiar way he never cried because he was was so solid, even when he thin enough to break in half. And Bucky had did it. The people that Steve loved most were hurting him, causing those tears, and it twisted Bucky's gut into knots. 

Pursing his lips in a grimace, Bucky held out his hand and gripped Stark's tightly when he shook it. "You hurt Steve," he growled, "and there will be no SHIELD facility in this world that will hold me back."

"Don't think I won't put your ass back on ice," Stark countered.

Steve heaved a weary sigh.

* * *

_Steve spent some time traveling, stopping in all the towns he once visited on his Captain America junket so many years ago. Everything was so different; even the smallest of towns bloomed into sprawling cities. He didn't know what to do with everything being so different, and it filled his chest with a chilled feeling, settled down in his gut with a deep loneliness. Everyone he had once known from_ before _was gone, leaving him to make this journey alone._

_It hurt to think about Bucky being gone, he barely had time to process it before his nosedive into icy waters. Steve missed him more than he understood how to handle, the darkest parts of his mind wishing he had died in the ice so he wouldn't have left Bucky and his memories behind. But even if he had managed to survive from the plane crash, he could have tried to live with Peggy and the other Commandos, he could have had the normal life that Bucky had wanted for Steve._

_Instead, he felt like he was in a whole other world. Lost. And he didn't have Bucky or any other familiar face to turn to, to write to, to call._

_Coming back to his apartment was nothing like coming home. It was just another place to lay his head, like any other hotel room. He tried to get used to it, start up a routine to keep his mind focused on what's next, instead of what did I miss._

_It gave him plenty of time to read and draw, to try understanding the new world around him in ways that he could handle._

_The lamp by his living room window was just enough light to work by as he sat on the fire escape. Sketching to fill his time, to keep his mind empty and memories at bay, Steve looked to the alley below him or the apartments across the way for things that would catch his eye: the play of light and dark with the street light falling across the opening of the alley, the silhouette of the daisies in the flower box outside a neighbor's lit kitchen window. He avoided things like the lines of a car sitting near the curb, sleek and curvy compared to the boxy chunkiness of the Fords he remembered._

_The hissing rush of propulsion and the low whining hum of the repulsors drew Steve's attention upwards. Drifting in an easy hover between the buildings to come up along Steve, Iron Man lifted his faceplate for Tony to give him a smile._

_"Home already, Cap?"_

_"I guess, if you can call it home," Steve sighed, the sound of it lost in the noise of Tony's armor keeping him afloat. "You want to come inside?"_

_Tony's mouth flicked at the corners with something funny, something a little uncomfortable. "I, uh. Can't. The suit. Old buildings. I don't know how re-enforced the floors are and. Uh. The ground, maybe?"_

_"Sure," Steve said as he got to his feet, leaning in the window to put his sketchpad on the table near the lamp. Tony was already on the ground when Steve worked on descending the creaking wrought iron escape. As he came down the last landing, he hopped the railing with ease to land next to Tony. "There isn't a situation, is there?"_

_"Nope, no situation. No emergencies," Tony shrugged, the panels of his armor shifting with the movement. It looked as graceful and natural as an insect, drawing Steve's eyes to the lines of the suit. It always surprised him how much it looked like it could have stepped out of the pages of one of Bucky's sci-fi Pulps. And if Steve lets his mind wander, it almost seemed like Howard was in the suit instead. "Just wanted to see how our favorite retro superhero was handling it all. Had a fun trip?"_

_Steve scratched his forehead, trying find somewhere else to train his eyes, his mind. "Not much was the same as I remembered. Even with a map, I, uh. Got lost a lot."_

_"Alzheimer's already, Captain Rocketpop?"_

_Of course, so much of what Tony said seemed to go over his head. "What?"_

_Tony rolled his eyes and started rattling off. "Nothing. Look. So, I have this tower. I know you said it was big and ugly. Well, it is big, but if you say it's ugly again, I'm going to tell Pepper, and she's got 12% of a reason to, uh, not be happy at you."_

_"Okay," Steve said slowly, not sure where Tony was taking this._

_"I was thinking we could go get some dinner and look at specs. I mean, like I said, the place is big and it's really impractical to have all that empty space. So since Bruce is there, comes and goes as he pleases..." Tony shrugged again, so Steve kept his focus on those wide, dark eyes of Tony's. "You should join us. It'll be fun. Superhero treehouse."_

_Steve blinked, not at all expecting Tony's offer._

_Tony took his silence as needing to convince him more. "They said that Coulson should be able to leave the medbay in a day or two, so, you know. We could all be there for that. And then get you moved in. Natasha and Barton are coming. Thor hasn't come back yet, but it's never bad to have a place for him to crash when he's in town."_

_"You want us all to come live with you?" Steve finally managed to get past the lump in his throat. The Howling Commandos all had talked about going their separate ways, but promised to stay in touch. If they had a building, a home like what Tony was offering, they could have stayed together after the War, like a family._

_"Jesus, no! You'll all have your own apartments. In my building... With me."_

_The laugh bubbled up on it's own, surprising Steve. "You want us to come live with you." This time it wasn't a question._

_"So, you coming or what?" Tony smiled, inclining his head almost like a curious puppy._

_Steve felt himself grin, giving a half hearted shrug. "We're not having shawarma for dinner, are we?"_

_Tony's eyes brightened, but he hid it quickly with a snort, waving his hand. "No way, old man. Broadening your horizons. Trying something new. You ever had Thai?"_

_"No, but I'm looking forward to it," Steve laughed, grateful for the chance to not be so alone._

* * *

Something somewhat like a truce settled between Tony and Barnes. They still couldn't be in the same room without Steve before falling into an argument of some kind, and even _with_ Steve in the room the tension was still high enough to run Bruce out of the area.

But they were trying.

Tony could see it in the way Barnes bit the inside of his lip to keep from saying something sarcastic, turned his head not to glare at Tony when made some sort of affectionate gesture at Steve. Because Barnes was making the effort, and it was keeping Steve happy, Tony did his part, too. He kept his scathing comments to himself (or at least out of earshot of Steve and Barnes), and tried to make the living space as welcoming as possible at all times, going so far as to allow Barnes to access JARVIS for assistance around the Tower. 

So, yes, Tony was trying. He really was. But it was harder than he expected, especially at times when he would come into a room to find Steve and Barnes sitting close and talking, the fond smile on Steve's lips that was once just for Tony, now turned on Barnes. It wasn't stupid to feel jealous, Bruce at told him. After all, Steve and Barnes did have something serious before it was cut horrifically short, and while Barnes' feelings were still fresh, feelings probably still lingered deep in Steve after all these years.

But Steve wouldn't leave Tony. He promised, and Steve's word was his bond. And while Tony believed him, trusted him (because he'd never not believe or trust Steve, with him being so solid and clear-minded and honest), it didn't stop the daydreams of Steve walking away, like Pepper had. Maybe the next argument would be the final straw and Steve couldn't handle it anymore. Maybe Barnes would finally convince Steve of what so many others couldn't, that Tony was too high maintenance for Steve. Maybe Steve would decide he just loved Bucky more. 

Even if Steve promised he wouldn't leave... if he wasn't happy, Tony couldn't make him stay. Maybe physically, if he had his armor on, but hurting Steve was not an option. And guilt-tripping Steve, as much as Tony knew he was willing to reduce himself down to it, might work on Steve for a little while, but he would be miserable.

Tony seemed to be good at making people miserable enough to leave him.

So he wasn't really surprised to hear Steve's and Barnes' voices in his penthouse on a rainy afternoon, as Tony came up to change clothes after putting long hours into his workshop. Barnes had lived in the tower for a few months now, but as far as Tony knew, Steve hadn't brought him up to the penthouse quite yet. By the sound of it, Steve was finally showing off his and Tony's home, and were in Steve's room.

While Steve slept with Tony and kept his clothes in the closets of the master bedroom, Tony made sure Steve had his own place in the penthouse to retreat to if he ever needed the space. There was a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf full of his guilty pleasure of romance novels in the corner, making it a functional bedroom of sorts, but the rest of the room was made over as Steve's art studio, with a drawing desk and easels and shelves of supplies. 

Tony insisted on Steve doing whatever he felt like with the space, and so the walls were covered in art painted right on the walls, landscapes of places Steve had been and portraits of people Steve remembered. In fact, painted on the wall next to the bed were Barnes and Tony, before they had ever met, looking as if they were waiting for Steve to wake up.

"Always that look," Tony heard Barnes say, as he stepped up to the door. "You know I can't stand it. It always makes me look like some kinda dope."

Through the crack of the ajar door, Tony could see the two of then sitting on the bed, practically pressed together. They were looking over their shoulders at the image of Barnes on the wall, smiling a fond little half grin, his eyes soft with something deep and warm.

"You are a dope," Steve turned a tender, bittersweet smile on Barnes. "And I don't care if you don't like it because..." Sighing, Steve glanced away. "It's my favorite. That smile. You used to look at me like that and I knew... even with all the other dames you stepped out with, they didn't mean anything. I was the one."

"Still are," Barnes said, biting at his bottom lip as looked to his hands.

Steve swallowed and looked back to Barnes. "I know... you still smile at me like that."

"Probably always will," Barnes said, trying to sound light, but failing with the watery smile on his face.

Raising his hand to hesitate a moment, Steve reached up and brushed the bangs back from Barnes' brow. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Bucky..."

Barnes caught Steve's hand and put it back in Steve's lap. "You couldn't know."

"That doesn't mean I don't still--"

"I swear to Christ, Rogers, if you say it. If you say it, I'll never forgive you."

"But I do." 

Steve turned those big, blue, earnest eyes on Barnes, shining with hurt and love. Tony knew if Steve had looked at him like that, he'd have never survived it. So despite the jealousy and bitter hurt that told Tony Steve was just another step closer to the door to leave him behind, Tony couldn't blame Barnes for giving in.

With Steve's quick reflexes, Tony knew Steve saw it coming and could have stopped it as Barnes reached up to put his hand on the back of Steve's neck and drew him down. The only sign of protest was a sad hitch of breath and the frown lines on Steve's forehead, before he all but melted against Barnes, falling into the kiss with a desperate hunger. When Steve's hand slipped, familiar and sure, to Barnes' hip, Tony pulled the door shut and retreated for his clean clothes and some way to save face.

* * *

_Footage of a colorful protest spread across several screens, the bottom corner of each clip noting a different source for each one: TMZ, Fox News, E!, and so on. Steve's jaw tensed as he saw the signs and banners, closing his eyes against the sting of something in his eyes. He remembered the rush, the crowd around him, but now wasn't the time._

_"Mr. Stark," Fury barked, folding his arms over his chest to glare down his nose at the person in mention. "Would you like to explain to me why, instead of showing up at the award ceremony specifically held in Captain Rogers' honor, he was found by the paparazzi at a DOMA protest?"_

_Tony sniffed and tilted his head, mouth open and ready to start some ridiculous spiel, when Steve beat him to it._

_"I was interested, sir."_

_The dark glare lifted, the one eye widening in something like confusion as Fury settled his sights on Steve. "I'm sorry, Captain?"_

_"I was interested, sir," he repeated, holding his head up. He could be proud about this. He could have this now, even without... "I saw the signs, the shirts. I wanted to know more. It wasn't allowed... in my time."_

_Fury looked like he was trying to steel himself before moving further, pursing his lips before speaking again. "People have seen you, in public with Tony Stark, in person and across broadcast television, at a rally for homosexual marriage. Do you understand what that will mean, if your identity of Captain America should become compromised?"_

_Steve knew. He and Tony discussed it in a hotel room over delivery pizza and scotch from the minibar. Steve was gay, something he had kept hidden his whole life, but from one other person. Tony was bisexual, though not quite openly due to all the military contracts he worked with over the course of his life. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore. Steve could have this, even..._

_"I support them, sir."_

_"Do you realize that supporting gay and lesbian rights is an extremely controversial topic at this time in our country?"_

_"I do, sir. And with all due respect, if anyone should have a problem, I suggest they look to the American Federal Court ruling of DOMA being unconstitutional for my professional feelings about it."_

_Taking a step back, Fury sat against the edge of his desk, his face smoothing out in something like a calm expression. "I see. And is there anything else you'd like to say about this?"_

_Swallowing, Steve felt a nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach, the words wanting to trip and tumble against his teeth. But he took a glance at Tony, saw the slight tip of his dark head, and it was okay. He could have this..._

_"I'm gay, sir."_

_Steve could have this now, even without Bucky._

* * *

Steve remembered hearing the _ding_ of the elevator so he knew Tony had finally come up from his workshop. The thought completely flew out of his mind in the face of Bucky, familiar and haunting in his presence. The Bucky he had always known from _before_ , but sitting here in the _now_ , and the mix of past and present was overwhelming sometimes, especially when Bucky was so close.

It's not that Steve forgot about Tony, because Steve could never do that, with how bright and amazing he shined, a prominent and charismatic presence in any room he was in. And underneath the flash and charm was that tender, secret side, vulnerable like an animal's underbelly, the side of Tony that cared so much and worked so hard. Just for that, Steve could never stop loving him.

But Bucky... _oh_. It was fluttering in his stomach and shy smiles all over again. Sometimes Steve swallowed and expected to find the taste of candy apples on the back of his tongue. The scent of Bucky so close drew up memories of musty afghans and creaking floorboards, of leaking tents and smoky bars. Of gentle hands on his chest helping him to breathe, a back against his own in a fight, and stealthy, nipping kisses just out of view of anyone nearby.

It's familiarity and _home_ suddenly, and Steve knew he shouldn't, that it was wrong and unfair to Tony, but in this world that Steve still couldn't quite grasp it all yet... He gave in, will crumbling like sand sculptures on the beach of Coney Island at high tide. He gave in and kissed away the pain on Bucky's lips, lapped up the homesickness on his tongue. For just a moment, he was on their bed in the boarding house, or a cot in their tent before heading out on a mission.

While kissing Tony sang of a _million_ possibilities, kissing Bucky was like _coming home_.

And the quiet click of the door shutting was enough to remind Steve that he was probably losing all those possibilities and more. He drew back as if burned, pleading apologies as he pushed at Bucky's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky... I shouldn't have..."

He couldn't look at Bucky then as he moved for the door, and though he was heading right for Tony, he probably couldn't look at him, either. He didn't know if he was lucky or screwed when he made it into their bedroom to hear Tony in the shower. He sat on the foot of the bed, facing the bathroom door in wait of Tony, his shoulders unconsciously hunched in to make himself smaller. 

He remembered when Peggy had caught him kissing the pretty blond private, Colonel Phillips secretary. He remembered being jealous of Howard asking Peggy to step out with him, and it fueled a defiant streak in Steve that Peggy would judge him for kissing someone else. He hadn't known all the facts at the time and had felt stupid afterwards. 

But this was different. Steve hadn't known where he stood with Peggy, and the secretary had meant nothing to him. Tony... he was his partner, his boyfriend. His _fella_. But then, once upon a time, so was Bucky. And while being pulled into a kiss with the secretary would have had Bucky and Tony laughing at him, knowing Steve as well as they do, there was no mistaking the intent or feelings behind the kiss that Tony watched Steve and Bucky share.

Tony said nothing as he exited the bathroom, towel around his waist, and disappeared into his massive closet. When he emerged again, he was fully clothed in tattered jeans and a tanktop, ready to lose himself in his workshop again. The fact that he didn't just ignore Steve and blow past him meant something, though Steve wasn't quite sure what at that point.

"So. Is it me or him?" Tony finally asked, jaw tight and arms folded over his chest.

Steve shook his head. "I... I don't know."

"It's not that hard, Steve. One or the other. Me or him."

Steve's chest ached like it hadn't in years, familiar as an asthma attack. "It's a lot harder than you think," he said, throat clicking as he swallowed.

"A or B, Steve. Door number one or door number two--"

"Could you decide?" Steve demanded as he got to his feet, angry at Tony's pushing. "If you had still been with Pepper, would you have been able to choose between her or me?"

Tony's mouth quirked, fighting back a snarl. His voice was hushed as he forced out, "That's low, Steve. You _know_ Pepper _left me_. And you know I would have never looked your way, not with her. Just like I would never chase anyone else while I have you."

"Tony, I can't... I... I won't leave you, but... I can't let him go, either... I'm so... confused. It wasn't like this with Peggy..."

Tony snorted. "Because I'd be your chance at a stable life? We're superheroes, Steve. Gay celebrity icons. There is nothing about our lives that mean normal. So, yeah, nothing like Peggy. Fuck, Steve, she didn't even know! You didn't even tell her!"

"We were at war! And by the time it was important, it was already too late! I lost Bucky, I lost Peggy! I don't want to lose you, too!" 

Tony paced a few steps toward the door and then a few steps back. "Do you have any idea of what the PR would be like if we split?"

"I don't care about the PR, Tony!" Steve grit out in frustration.

"I would look like the asshole. The world will assume I ran you off. Into someone else's arms, even."

"No, Bucky... He wouldn't want to come out. Not any time soon. It's all too new for him... But it doesn't matter, because I won't leave you. I promised--"

"Yeah, and you'll be miserable with me."

"And I'll be miserable without you!" Steve threw his hands up. "I just want you both to be happy! Why can't I just... love you both?"

Pacing a few steps again, Tony made a slow beeline over to the bed, sitting down heavily beside Steve. "Could you? I mean, would you be able to?"

Steve smiled wistfully. "I already do."

"Steve, we don't get along. And you want to juggle us?"

"You're both trying. For me." He put his hand on Tony's thigh. "I just want you both to be happy. It's all I can do. Both or none at all."

Taking a long moment to think, Tony finally put his hand on Steve's, lacing their fingers together. "If it means keeping you, I think..." He shrugged and rolled his eyes, breathing out on an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah. I guess I can share."

Steve felt lightheaded suddenly, the pain in his chest went from an ache to nearly bursting. "Tony... You... You're so romantic." He laughed and threw his arms around the genius, pulling him in against him and pressing his forehead to Tony's. "I love you, Tony."

When Steve kissed him, he could taste the faint sour of fear on Tony's tongue, but the feeling behind the push of Tony's lips was of relief.

* * *

It's weeks later, and Bucky still couldn't hold Steve's hand in front of the others, turned his head when Steve leaned in for a kiss. They were all family here in the Tower and no one would judge, Steve had assured him, but Bucky still... _couldn't_.

He watched Stark sling an arm around Steve, slid his hand up Steve's thigh, lean in to nibble at Steve's ear, and it burned in Bucky's gut to watch. A quick hug or a shoulder pat was all Bucky could manage, even as Steve smiled warmly and tried coaxing him for more.

"Tony's showing off, but that doesn't mean you can't, too," Steve mumbled against Bucky's neck, nuzzling a little kiss before Bucky could lean out of range.

It's not that Bucky didn't want it, because he did. He wanted Steve's hands in his hair, his mouth on Steve's, his fingers tracing the veins in Steve's arms instead of paying attention to the television. 

But Bucky had seen the photo-shoots and magazine spreads, the YouTube videos and campaign commercials that Steve and Stark had been in. It all started with a wave of social media--a series of cellphone images and videos, tweets with the hashtags like _#Stony_ , _#queeroes_ , and _#superboyfriends_ \--over their coming out at a Halloween party. Interviews and speculating articles followed soon after, and then a national campaign for tolerance and equality. 

Steve and Stark were serious, all but married in the eyes of the whole country. Steve's reputation among the public made him into a perfect role model for men in relationships; supportive and courteous, brave and protective, open-minded and adaptive. The word monogamous was thrown around continuously, and Bucky knew it was because of Stark, Steve had talked about Stark's sordid past with Bucky to make things clear ("No secrets between us, all of three of us," was all Steve had asked of them.), but it applied to Steve, too, while he was Stark's other half.

Steve was this golden hero that didn't just fight Nazis and HYDRA, but also _saved the world_ , fighting for the lifestyle he and Bucky had hid so feverishly in their past, and he was so happy and proud of it. The world's eyes were on Steve, watching every little move he made, he and Stark both. Bucky's presence would be intruding, scandalous for Steve's perfect image.

So much in the world _had_ changed, but for Bucky it was no different than before. He still had to keep to the shadows to love Steve.

Steve seemed to take it like Bucky wasn't interested in coming out and left it at that, never one to push or bully. And so they picked off where they had left off before the War, going 'to the movies' in the entertainment room and 'out to eat' in the Tower's cafe and restaurants on the lower levels like the best friends they were, but coming home to privacy in Steve's old apartment or Steve's room in the penthouse. 

Of course, Steve had his time with Stark, too, switching off evenings and weekends between his two fellas, depending on the Stark's schedule with Stark Industries or SHIELD's need for the Avengers.

On more than one occasion, Steve tried to have them both together with him, for a dinner or a movie night, but the tension was too high to maintain to keep everyone happy, leaving Steve to only find peace by keeping them separate.

That didn't stop Bucky and Stark from squabbling over who could have Steve when in times of important events--galas, baseball games, business trips--and Steve tried to be as diplomatic as possible. But being pulled both ways was starting to show in Steve's smile and sighs, in his wistful, tired blue eyes.

"All I want is for you both to get along," Steve said underneath their seemingly endless arguing. _You're hurting me_ , the lines of his face shouted.

And while Bucky wanted to blame Stark for being the asshole, Bucky knew he was at fault here, too. He just couldn't bring himself to back down, not over Steve.

* * *

_Rounding the corner to the conference room on the common floor, Steve came up short at the sound of hushed voices. As far as Steve knew, it was just going to be Tony schooling him on how to manipulate the holographic display, seeing if they could get Steve up to speed in using it for briefing and training purposes. But of course, Pepper knew enough about Tony's tech that she could probably teach Steve. She was probably more patient, too, Steve thought a little guiltily._

 _Steve poised himself to knock, but hesitated at the sound of a desperate whine. Holding his breath as a blush heated his face, Steve wondered if maybe he was too early and they were..._ ahem _._

_"Tony. There is going to be a day where... Where you'll go, and I can't follow you."_

_No, not... but just as intimate, at Steve's guess._

_The sound of Tony's voice was strangled, strained. "No, Pepper. Please. Just..."_

_"I would be lying if I said this wasn't hurting me, too, Tony. But I can't..." Pepper's voice was choked with tears, hitches of breath sounding painful as she hung up on words._

_"I can't be the one that they call when... when they need someone to identify the body. I can't be the one they call saying you didn't make it back. I love you, Tony. I do... You're my best friend, you're all I have, and I love you... But... Too many near misses and... I'm not waiting for the end. I'm not waiting for the day you don't come home to me... I don't want to be the one that buries you."_

_Steve could hear a broken off sob, like an aborted wail. "Pepper, please. Pep, you know I need you. You've seen me my worst, you know my best. You know me! Like no one else knows me! Don't you see how I need you?"_

_"But you really don't. Not anymore. It was just us before. We were all we had... and now you have them," there was a smile there, just there at the end, hiding like a silver lining under her thick sorrow. "And you're even better with them, better than you were with just me."_

_"Pepper... no..."_

_"I still love you, Tony..."_

_Steve edged away from the door, stepping back as quietly as he could, knowing he shouldn't have been there. When went as far as back out to the living room area, sitting down heavily on a sofa, and waited. A few minutes passed before Pepper came along, wiping gently at her red eyes, her pinked nose. He did the gentlemanly thing and stood, nodding with a quiet "Ms. Potts."_

_She took a deep breath, lifted her head and tried out a smile.  
"Captain Rogers. If you're waiting for Tony... Give him some time? And maybe excuse him if he's a little unpleasant."_

_"Yes, ma'am," he nodded again, and he watched her step into the elevator that JARVIS summoned for her. She didn't meet Steve's eyes as she turned to face outward, her lips pursed white until the doors shut to hide her._

_He waited a few minutes, glancing at his watch. The minute hand met and passed the agreed upon meeting time, but Steve wasn't sure how soon would be too soon, how much time Tony would need. Tony had loved Pepper, with all he had some days, telling everyone how she was always there for him._

_And now she wasn't._

_Steve wasn't sure he could imagine it. Losing Bucky was different, in it's suddenness and harshness. There was no goodbye, no chance in seeing him ever again. Pepper was still alive, was probably going to still be involved in Stark Industries, was going to pop up in Tony's life still on occasion. Tony would still see her and know how much he loved her and... couldn't have her. Steve wasn't sure he could handle that kind of heartbreak._

_A whole half hour passed with Steve looking to the hall, with the conference room just beyond, and at his watch. When Tony shuffled into view, Steve swallowed and looked him over. Tony's dark hair was a fly away mess from raking his fingers through it, his eyes rimmed red and tired. His busy hands were stuffed in his pockets, like he was keeping them to himself, like he was trying not to reach out for something, to cling or to break._

_"You're late," he said, and there was no snark, no life. The words lifeless and hollow. If the arc reactor's cool glow wasn't visible through Tony's shirt, Steve would have thought him a dying man._

_"I..." Steve wasn't sure what to say, if this was something he wasn't supposed to know. So he played it off, with an awkward shake of his head and a self-conscious shrug._

_"I don't really think you'll want to put the time into this. I mean, I don't understand much yet. I'm willing to try, but... you might not have the patience for me..." He holds off adding 'right now'._

_Tony closed his eyes like he was too tired for all this, like it was too much right now. And yet a tension coursed through him, left him strung tight and ready to strike. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, blinking._

_"Come on, Cap. I just want to get this over with." Steve hesitated before stepping forward._

_"You know, this could wait. Really. I got something that might be better right now. Suit up and meet me in the gym?"_

_An hour later and several thousand dollars in damage to the gym, Steve and Tony laid in a sprawl on the mats._

_"I could go for a nap," Steve panted, reaching across the floor for his shield._

_"Yeah. Nap sounds awesome," Tony rasped, flopping over to his back with a heavy thud from the weight of his armor. "And then we're doing this again."_

_"Maybe we should have dinner first?"_

_Tony laughed. It was dry and weak, but there was some life in it already. It made Steve smile._

* * *

"I see a Steve," came a voice behind him, and Steve immediately flipped his sketchpad shut. "But there's no Tony or Bucky." Steve looked up as Darcy Lewis pulled up a chair beside him, looking every bit the office girl in a smart pencil skirt and blouse as she put her stack of files and SI coffee mug on the table.

"Coffee break?"

"It was, but now it's a Cap-puccino break! And I know you got that reference," she said, settling down and folding her arms over her paperwork. "You're looking a little gloomy there, sunshine. You need to talk about it?"

"You're busy. I really don't want you getting in trouble--"

"Please," Darcy waved him off with a snort. "If it keeps you happy, Tony would pay me millions to just sit and chit chat with you. Besides, the less I'm around the R&D department, the more gets done." She gestured to her chest in explanation. "It's not the whole department, but there's a few neckbeards that don't understand the _eyes up here_ concept."

Steve frowned. "That's kinda rude."

"It wouldn't be so bad if they were hot, like Tony, but eh. Come with me one day and I'll point them out. Having you glare at them would probably work better than any sexual harassment write-up would."

With a laugh, Steve sat back in his chair, feeling himself relax a little. "Tell me when, and I will be there."

"Good, now where are your boys?" She gestured to the empty chairs around them in the little cafe on the fifth floor of the Tower. "You always have at least one on your arm. Has Tony started working on stuff with that Pym guy? Then you could keep them in your pocket."

He shook his head slowly, shrugging. "No... I guess I just need a little break."

"Uh oh," was all Darcy said, all big eyes and shocked gasp.

The little relief Steve was finding in the conversation quickly drained away. "Uh oh?"

"Is there trouble in paradise, Cap?"

"Not trouble, no..."

Darcy pouted and gave Steve her saddest eyes. "You're looking like a kicked puppy, Big Guy. Some serious shit has gone down. If you don't tell me, I can always get it from JARVIS."

"Tony still can't get over how much JARVIS has taken a liking to you," Steve chuckled, clearly remembering Tony's flabbergasted face when he stepped out into the common room to find Darcy and JARVIS in deep conversation over digital media storage on portable devices.

"He's just jelly we're totes BFFs after he told JARVIS how much of a bad influence I am," Darcy shrugged. "Now stop changing the subject. Spill."

Steve let out a slow sigh, scratching his forehead. "Well... it hasn't been easy. I never thought having both of them would be so hard. I mean... They don't get along. They try, but it's so _forced_. And the littlest things cause it all to fall apart... And..."

"And?" Darcy leaned forward.

"Halloween is coming."

"Oh," she sounded understanding and disgusted at the same time.

"I don't know what to do." Steve folded his arms over his chest. "Halloween means something for me and Tony. We celebrate the anniversary of our first date as something small, between us. But Halloween... We came out. Together. If it's one anniversary I want to always celebrate, it's this."

"So celebrate! Have a good time!" she smiled, swatting Steve on the bicep.

"I want to... but now there's Bucky."

"He seems like the partying type."

"He can be. Or he used to be. I don't know," Steve sighed. He fidgeted with the corner of his sketchpad. "He's not quite the same Bucky I remember, but I don't know if that's because of the freezing and assassin thing Fury insists happened to him or... if it's this whole... _triangle_ going on." Steve covered his face with his hands. "Oh gosh, how did I ever end up in a _love triangle_?"

Darcy put her arms around Steve, resting her cheek against his shoulder as she rubbed his back. "It's awesome, I know. A gay superhero love triangle. And it's still a better lovestory than _Twilight_."

Steve laughed. "Still not as gay as _Twilight_?"

"I love it when you get all pop-cultural on me," she grinned at him.

"That's what he said?" Steve tried.

"Yep, I am a bad influence," she said proudly. "But anyway. So, Bucky's not a party animal anymore?"

"It's not just that. It's... so many things. I know he's not ready to come out, and I don't blame him. He's still fresh from our time _before_ , when it was not okay at all to be gay. And he's so... _jealous_ of Tony. It won't help that it's an important night for me and Tony. But I want him there. He's a part of my life. I just... I don't know how to have them both there."

"Yeah, without there being some sort of _gi-normous_ implosion," she agreed, rolling her eyes. "And with Tony, there's always some sort of 'splosion."

Steve smiled. "It's part of his charm."

Darcy smiled back at Steve, folding her arms over her folders again, resting her chin on her hands. "Maybe you should tell them that."

"What?" Steve asked, looking up from worrying the edge of his sketch pad’s cover.

"That it's an important night; don't fuck it up, guys. But, you know. In that sweet, boy scout way you do."

Steve gave her a flat, incredulous look.

"No, I'm serious. If you let them know how important this is to you, if they love you as much as they say they do... They'll be on their best behavior."

Steve just sighed.

"It's all or nothing, right? Both or none at all, that's what you told them. So, put your foot down, Cap. And if you mean anything to them, they should fall in line."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve gave Darcy a tiny, hopeful grin. "You think so?"

"Yeah, sure," she shrugged.

She didn't sound too convincing, but Steve figured it was worth a shot.

* * *

_Steve gave an easy shrug, and watched Tony's eyes light up._

_"So, does Friday at 8 work for you, then?" Tony grinned, inclining his head toward Steve in a teasing way._

_Steve had never given it any real thought before, mostly because he'd been mourning Bucky and Peggy, and that the world around him was so_ different _that what he knew of dating didn't always apply anymore. Suddenly his attention was drawn to dating, and to Tony... It made Steve flush, he could feel the heat of it on the back of his neck, to the tips of his ears. "Yeah," Steve shrugged again. "Sounds like fun."_

_Clint choked as Pepper looked between the two of them with wide eyes and shocked smile. "Oh my... Is this happening? I mean. Really?" she asked, a giddy excitement in her voice._

_"Yeah, really? Because..." Clint shook his head, looking between the both of them. "Not that I think it's wrong or anything. Bang who you want. But... is this to make a point or something?"_

_"Nope," Tony said, stepping into Steve's personal space to give him a roguish smile. It made a bubble of fluttery feelings in his stomach watching that smile turn on him, a smile Steve hadn't seen since Tony dated Pepper._

_Tony was handsome, not that Steve hadn't noticed before, but too much had been on Steve's mind and Tony had been getting over Pepper. And they were just friends..._

_But Bucky and Steve had been friends, too..._

_Steve smiled back, soft and eager. "Nope, no point at all... Just. Two friends, taking it a step further."_

_"Oh, you two," Pepper smiled and rolled her eyes. "It's about time. I swear, you've practically been dating since after Tony and I broke up."_

_Tony winked, flirty and playful, before turning to Pepper. "I've got those diagrams in the workshop. And a prototype for casing that needs to go to R &D, so." He turned, snapping his finger as his busy hands readied for work mode. "I'll see you later then, Captain Tight Pants?"_

_Steve nodded as Clint made a sound as if he was dying. The archer put in his earpiece. "And now the flirting starts... Coulson, I need some work. Get me out of here," Clint said into the comm unit, making his way for the elevator._

_"As if he and Nat haven't been eye-fucking for as long as we've seen them together." Tony rolled his eyes, Pepper smacking his arm as she tagged along._

_The next few days for Steve were awkward, and yet familiar in a way he hadn't felt since he was a teenager. It was as if the world continued on like any other day, and Steve knew it did because it really was just any other day. He went to SHIELD meetings, had lunches with Tony, dinners with the team. But there was something new happening between Steve and Tony, and it made Steve small and weak again, like his chest could betray him any minute again._

_Steve had seen Tony flirt before, had seen him surrounded by a room of people and charm them all with words and comehither looks. Steve had been on the end of that kind of flirting with Tony before. But what he was getting now was different._

_Sincere. The plastic face Tony used for the public wasn't in his smile for Steve, just soft edges and warm looks. And his words weren't as lewd as they could be, as if Tony was playing at this on his best behavior. It made Steve want to laugh, it was so adorable. It reminded Steve of Bucky in a distant way, how he could charm any woman in the room, but he still only had eyes for Steve._

_"So, this is okay, right?" Tony asked on Friday evening, after they had ordered their entrées at their favorite Italian restaurant._

_Steve shrugged as he swiped a breadstick from the basket. "Why wouldn't it be okay?" he finally said, waiting for Tony to take one. "We're both consenting adults, we know each other well. There's an... attraction..."_

_Tony smiled into his water glass as he drank from it. "An attraction?"_

_"You flirt with everyone and never really mean it."_

_"But maybe I mean it with you."_

_Steve smiled, snapping the breadstick in half. "Then there's something there, right?"_

_Mouth quirking in a smile, Tony leaned toward Steve. "What about you?"_

_"Tony, I... Nobody wanted me when I was small. And now, they're too starstruck to even ask... But you and I, we've come to know each other over the past two years, and..." He scratched his forehead and smiled, hoping it wasn't as wistful as he felt. "I haven't felt like this... since Bucky."_

_Tony hands busied themselves with his cloth napkin. "Confessions already, Cap? It's only our first date."_

_"Steve. If we're going to do this... I'm just Steve."_

_"Steve or Cap, either way I see the same person," Tony said, a little smile on his lips despite the serious lines on his face. "It's just that one name works on the battlefield, while you're at my back, and the other works at home, when you're at my side."_

_Steve's hands felt like they were shaking. "Tony..."_

_"I feel like a better person with you."_

_"I could be in a room full of people and feel alone, but not with you," Steve blurted. "I never feel alone with you."_

_Their dinner was quiet and easy, their smiles fond, their banter soft and teasing. If anyone noticed Steve tap his shoe against Tony's, starting a subtle game of footsie, they never drew any attention to it._

_On the elevator ride to the residential floors, Tony leaned against the brushed metal wall and smiled at Steve, his eyes dark. "Wanna come up for coffee?"_

_"Sure," Steve agreed easily._

_Tony then stood upright and stepped into Steve's personal space. "Wanna come up to neck like two teenagers?"_

_Steve found himself laughing, but his answer was still just as simple. "Sure."_

_The ding of the elevator opening to the penthouse was like a starting shot. Tony grabbed the front of Steve's button-up shirt by slipping his fingers in the parting between the buttons, and pulled Steve along with him out of the elevator. Steve followed him into the living room, keeping so close to Tony they stepped in unison. When the back of Tony's knees hit the sofa, he sat down heavily and pulled Steve down to lean over him._

_"You gonna tell me if I go to fast for you, old man?" Tony smirked, sliding his hand up Steve's chest to slip behind his neck._

_The feel of Tony's hand, of Tony's breath over lips, of a body so close, brought back memories of Bucky, of quick fumbles of hands and mouths in hidden corners. When Steve opened his eyes (he didn't remember closing them), he saw dark brown eyes looking back at him instead of Bucky's hazel._

_It was disorienting for a second, but it was okay. Steve had jumped off buildings for nearly two years now, knowing he would be caught by Iron Man, by_ Tony _, and so Steve knew he could trust him with anything._

 _With his heart. With_ this _._

_"I don't think you have to worry about me keeping up," Steve said, planting his knees on either side of Tony's hips._

_He could see Tony's eyes turn darker as he leaned in, Tony's head tilting back against the sofa between where Steve braced his hands. Steve closed the space between them, holding his breath at the first tentative press of lips. Tony didn't hesitate to press back, smiling against Steve's mouth as Steve let out a sigh. They were slow to start, just tasting and breathing at first, Tony's beard tickling at Steve's face. But as Steve parted his lips in welcome, his tongue coaxing Tony in, the pace picked up quickly, leaving Steve hungry for more as Tony dazed him in a sweet attack on his mouth._

_Tony didn't nip so much as suck at Steve's tongue, his bottom lip, his throat. He was quick to leave a mark high and visible, right at the underside of Steve's jaw, leaving Steve moaning at the thought that anyone could see it and_ know _. Steve bit back in turn and more than once, sinking his teeth into where Tony's neck and shoulder met, at Tony's Adam's apple, the tender skin just behind Tony's right ear. He sunk his teeth in just enough that Tony whimpered under the pressure and then he sucked and nibbled, leaving the spots tender and red. Steve licked over each one in passing, an apologetic kiss for any pain he caused._

_"They don't stay on you as long as on me," Tony gasped against Steve's ear as he nibbled another mark just under Tony's jaw, matching the one Tony had made on him._

_"You can either try harder or wear enough for the both of us," Steve laughed against Tony's mouth. He then swallowed down a groan as he was tongue fucked in retaliation._

_When Tony's hands became insistent at getting to more skin, he pulled Steve's shirt apart, buttons skipping all over. "I'll buy you a new one," Tony promised, mouthing at Steve's exposed chest. Steve mumbled about not being able to afford anything in Tony's wardrobe as they worked together to pull off the two shirts Tony was wearing._

_Steve had seen the arc reactor enough that it wasn't a surprise or shock to see it, he knew what it was for and why it was there. Without it, Tony wouldn't be with him in this moment, and Steve lovingly brushed his fingertips over the clear glass in respect._

_"If you say it's beautiful again, I'm going to dump you on the floor," Tony said, taking a hold of Steve's hand as he drew Steve down into a wet, slow kiss._

_"I'd like to see you try," Steve grinned, shifting forward to push against all that warm skin. And_ oh _, they were pressed together then, a hot line from chest to hip. Tony moaned under him, rolling his hips as he gave Steve a naughty grin, making Steve gasp as pleasure crackled up his spine like electricity. Steve rocked against him and,_ ah _, there was no stopping now._

_"Oh fuck, Steve," Tony moaned, writhing underneath him, carding a hand through Steve's hair and pulling him in, kissing feverish and hungry. They rocked and ground against each other, hips working as frantic as their mouths, drawing gasps and sighs._

_As Tony put a hot hand on Steve's hip, urging him to push closer, Tony brushed the fingertips of his other hand against Steve's mouth, pressing against his bottom lip and slipping two in when Steve opened his mouth for him. Steve sucked at those fingers, twining his tongue eagerly around them, licking at the pads and creases._

_Tony's eyes rolled back, panting. "I swear, you're gonna kill me. No man should be so fucking hot... I don't know how I've kept from jumping you before... Don't know how I'll keep from doing it from now on..."_

_Moaning as Tony slipped his fingers from Steve's mouth, Steve chased after them, nipping gently. Tony's hips stuttered, rhythm jerking at the sound of Steve's voice._

_"You like that? God, I'd love to give you something bigger to suck," Tony purred, trailing his wet fingers down Steve's chest and over his hip._

_"Oh, Tony," Steve panted, rolling and rocking harder. He gasped as Tony slid his hands down the back of his slacks, as Tony grabbed and kneaded at Steve's ass. The heat building in Steve's gut was coiling tight, driving him close to the edge._

_"So fucking perfect," Tony hissed, digging his fingers into Steve's cheeks and spreading them as best he could with Steve's pants still on. When he ran his fingers along Steve's ass, gently pressing at Steve's tender hole, it was enough to blindside Steve, taking him over the deep end with a breathy keen as he came hard in his pants. Tony cursed and thrust up against Steve hard, losing his rhythm as he followed Steve._

_It took a few moments for them both to pull themselves together. Steve was pretty sure his smile was dopey as he leaned his forehead against Tony's._

_"When I said 'neck like teenagers', I didn't mean 'come in our pants like teenagers', too," Tony sighed._

_Steve hummed a pleased sound and kissed Tony languid and wet. "We could get cleaned up and try it again, without pants."_

_Tony moaned pathetically, biting his bottom lip. "If I had asked you out sooner, would you have been this easy then, too?"_

_Snorting, Steve shook his head. "You're so romantic, Tony," he said with fond sarcasm._

* * *

"Pepper," Tony started, tapping his fingers on her desk, "when you let me go..."

She was already shaking her head, eyes sad and her lips making that little pouty _oh_. "Tony, oh no. What are you thinking? Tony?"

He ran a hand over his face, tired and lost. "I think I know... Like, how you said you loved me and it was hurting you, too."

She was out of her office chair, it spinning behind her with momentum, as she rounded the desk. She touched his face, his hair, tried pulling him into a hug made awkward by him still sitting in his chair. 

"Oh, god, Tony. Is this because of James? Do I need to hurt him? Do I? Tony?"

He wanted to say yes, because it was Barnes' fault. What asshole has any right to come back from the dead some seventy years later just to steal back his boyfriend? But then it's Steve's fault, too. Big, perfect, pure-hearted Steve, with his stupid romance novels and sappy old fashioned notions of love. The knight with his shiny shield, saving the day and getting his true love back. 

So what that Tony gave Sleeping Beauty his first kiss after waking up? Especially when Steve can go back to the prince he loved before being taken away from him without so much as a goodbye.

"I don't... I don't want to wait for him to leave," Tony said, and he's surprised at how strangled he sounded with his cheek pressed to the linen of her blazer. "No matter what Steve says, I know... I know it's coming. And... I don't want to wait for it."

Pepper tried to shush him, petting his hair with one hand while holding on tight to his teeshirt with the other. "No, oh no. Tony, have you talked about this? Are you sure? The way Steve looks at you! He still--"

"Have you seen the way he looks at Barnes?"

"You said you wouldn't give him up without a fight!"

"And I have been!" Tony swallowed hard and shook his head before resting his forehead against her collarbone. "I have and... Barnes fights back just as hard. We can't even be in the same room and Steve... God, his face. It just breaks my fucking heart, Pepper. It hurts him so. Damn. Much. _I_ hurt him so damn much..."

She sniffled against Tony's hair, her voice thick with the sound of tears. "I'm not saying you weren't worth it when I left... But maybe Steve. Maybe he holds on to you both, despite all the pain. Because you're both worth it to him?"

"Nobody can hold on for long under all that heavy pressure. Come on, Pep. You know the history here. If you were Steve, who would you choose?"

She pulled Tony in tighter. "I couldn't. There's no easy choice, Tony."

"Yeah, there is... If I give him one..."

* * *

Tony wasn't sure how Pepper had wrangled Barnes into the elevator, but he wasn't going to complain. He knew she would get the job done, whether or not she liked Tony's plan. The ding of the elevator, the rustle of the beaded tassels on her period-accurate flapper dress and click of her heels heralded her appearance at the entrance of the living room, Barnes a few silent steps behind her.

If only Tony liked the asshole a little more, he might have enjoyed the priceless expression of confusion and horror that crossed Barnes' face in a split second.

"What the hell are you _wearing_?!"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked down at his black leather corset and fishnet stockings with a sniff. "You mean to tell me, for as much as Steve loves the movie, he hasn't showed you _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ yet?"

"I'd think I'd remember a get-up like that if I'd seen it elsewhere," Barnes said with a glare. "Look, I already told Steve I didn't want to be a distraction. This is your night, you and Steve. If you're putting me in something like that, I'm definitely not going. Surprise or no."

Picking up his tablet and flicking his hand over the screen, Tony brought up a black-and-white image of a man between them on the holographic display. White shirt, leather jacket, pomade slicked hair, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. "James Dean. Steve damn near adores the guy. Think you can pull it off?"

Pepper held out a black leather jacket to Barnes. He looked to her with wary eyes, but didn't take it. "Why?" he asked.

"Because Steve wants you there," Tony said, flat and to the point.

"But you don't."

"What I want... doesn't matter right now." What he meant to say instead was _anymore_. But with the way Barnes looked down and nodded before taking the jacket from Pepper, he heard Tony loud and clear.

* * *

_With a group of costume heroes living at the top of the building, it seemed to make sense for Tony to start some sort of Halloween party for the employees of the Avengers (formally Stark) Tower. The inaugural party was a blast--of the non-explosive kind--even with the odd mix of Stark Industry employees, SHIELD agents, and booze. In the third year running, it was had become a tradition of sorts, one that the Avengers embraced eagerly._

_What Steve loved the best about the whole event was the secrecy leading up to it, the hush-hush way in which everyone picked and hid their costumes until the night of the party. It was tricky hiding things like that from Tony and Clint, who liked to sneak peeks and shake parcels and spy on browser histories. They were terrible with their impatience to know, to not let someone have the drop over them._

_It only made matters worse with Steve now trying out the whole romantic things with Tony. Not that Tony took their relationship as permission to snoop through his things, but it just made it that much harder to want to hide something from Tony. They made the promise together of no secrets between them, and Steve took it to heart._

_He knew exactly what he wanted for a costume, knew the moment Pepper brought up the discussion for party plans. He looked right at Tony and grinned._

_Getting the costume was as easy as sweet talking JARVIS into covering his tracks to hide his purchases. He would have sewn it together himself, like he had with his gladiator tunic the first year (when the other Avengers all dressed up as Captain America, ha ha funny, guys), but he didn't have the time for it with as much time as he spent in Tony's presence._

_Hiding it was a little more difficult, seeing as he couldn't keep it anywhere in plain sight, in case Tony was flicking through security cameras just for the purpose of being nosey. So he stashed his costume in his uniform locker on the Helicarrier, snickering to himself at the irony of hiding his costume with his, well, costume. Captain America, meet Captain Kirk._

_Tony asked and prodded for hints in the months that followed, but Steve refused to give in. However, while Tony was usually near to bursting about wanting to tell at least_ someone _about his costume, this year he seemed very uncomfortable about it._

_"Did you not... find one yet?" Steve asked, looking up from his battered dime-store romance he picked up at a used bookstore._

_Tony's eyes flicked to him and then away, darting back down to his tablet and the sprawl of code on it. Sighing, he looked up again, his eyes focusing on the beaten, dogeared cover instead of Steve's face. "I have one. Yup. Got it and... yeah."_

_"Do you think people won't like it?"_

_Tony shook his head, eyes going back to his tablet. "Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Just... you know."_

_Steve wasn't sure what that meant, but he wasn't going to push. He'd find out eventually anyway, on the night of the party._

_As the days slipped away through October, Steve felt the anticipation mount through the whole building. The night before, Steve's almost bursting himself, biting his lip to keep back a smile as Bruce and Tony squabbled over an episode of_ Star Trek: The Next Generation _on BBC America. But while Steve was practically restless from being so giddy, Tony, for the first time, wasn't._

_"Are you second guessing your costume?" Steve asked as he curled up against Tony's back, nuzzling the short hairs at the nape of Tony's neck._

_"I'm not. No. Not second guessing. I just... We'll see tomorrow."_

_Steve settled and closed his eyes. "Okay..." he breathed out on a sigh._

_But then Tony was turning to him, pushing himself up to lean on his elbow. He looked down at Steve, their faces visible in the dark thanks to soft blue glow of Tony's reactor. "Steve. It's been, what? Five months?"_

_Yes. Five months. Five months since Clint made the sarcastic comment ("Are you guys sure you're not gay for eachother? Because you sure could have fooled me."), Pepper laughed, and Tony looked to Steve. Steve hadn't considered it, hadn't really thought about it at all before then. He really_ liked _being around Tony since they started getting along, and Tony was a really handsome guy..._

 _So Steve looked back and gave him a shrug, an honest-to-god 'why the hell not?' shrug. And they kinda unraveled from there, from two people into one..._ something _. So far, they had never named it, never spoke of it..._

_"Yeah, something like that," Steve said, like he hasn't been counting the days himself, maybe even the hours._

_Tony quirked the corner of his mouth, his nose doing that adorable little wiggle--a nervous tick Steve had come to learn was Tony's way to try staving off emotions from flicking across his face. "Do you think... I mean, we never really hid it, but do you... think people have noticed?"_

_Steve reached up to touch Tony's lips with his fingertips. "I don't care if they have or haven't. I'm not ashamed of this."_

_As Tony leaned down to kiss Steve, to fill him with heat and slowly burn him from the inside out with pleasure, Steve stopped caring about his costume and wondered more about what Tony had going on in his head._

_The next day, just to make sure Tony didn't even get a chance to spot Steve putting his costume on, Steve waited until the party had started to leave the Helicarrier, his costume hidden in his little backpack he carried with art supplies. He avoided all the party-goers by taking the restricted residential elevator to the Avengers' floors and then made his way into his own apartment. It was easy to slip into the clothing, donning the simple form-fitting gold command uniform shirt and black slacks._

_He didn't do much to his hair, his usual neat part not much different than the style worn by William Shatner in the 60's, if maybe a little longer in the front. The black boots completed the look and he took the staff elevator down to the Stark Industries exhibition hall._

_The party was already into full swing as he stepped out onto the floor, the corridors and assembly hall full of colorful and haunting costumes. He scanned the room as he slowly passed through it and greeted the few people that attempted to get his attention. He hoped he didn't seem too absent minded or rude, but he had other things on his mind. Like brown eyes and a devilish smile._

_He spotted his teammates easily as they came into his field of view. Thor was easiest to notice, standing almost a head taller over the people crowded around him, his arm around Jane. They were dressed in something ancient and classical looking, like from out of the movie about 300 Spartans that Thor enjoyed._

_In a corner near the bar was Clint, in a ragged teeshirt and leather, with fangs poking over his bottom lip. Natasha was beside him, watching quietly over the crowd in a gorgeous black feathered tutu, a black feathered crown perched upon her red hair. In the main auditorium, the guests moved to an assortment of Halloween themed music, and Steve found Pepper and Happy dancing along to 'The Monster Mash' while dressed as the redhead and the dog from a cartoon about spooky mysteries. Bruce was even there, talking with Coulson in a somewhat quiet corner, the two of them dressed as Indiana Jones and The Phantom Of The Opera respectively._

_For just a moment, Steve worried that maybe Tony decided not to show, that maybe the unease he had over his costume made him decide not to come. But then the familiar scent of Tony's bodywash and cologne, caught his attention. It was like a magnet, drawing Steve by his nose to turn around and there._

_There was Tony. How could Steve have missed him, draped and wrapped in folds of red and gold silks like a regal Asian emperor?_

_"Captain." Tony tipped his head to Steve in greeting, an impish grin playing over his lips. "If I had know this was your plan, I would have shown up as Spock."_

_"That's the whole point of hiding the costumes, so you don't know," Steve said, smiling fondly at Tony._

_Steve bent over in a formal bow then, and Tony didn't miss a beat in turning to him and holding out his hand for Steve to kiss. Steve noticed then that something was off, that one of the sweeping sleeves was missing. His eyes followed the lines of Tony's bare arm, nearly up to his shoulder where the sleeve had been cut away. Tony's eyes were trained on him as Steve straightened, focused completely on Steve's face, waiting for a sign, recognition._

_A cut off sleeve._

_And as realization dawned on Steve, he lost his breath. A cut off sleeve. Tony was dressed as a_ Chinese Emperor _with a_ cut off sleeve _. For anyone that knew the story, Tony was basically announcing he was in love with another man._

_"Tony..." the name came from Steve in a breathless gush._

_"You know this, right? The Emperor Ai?" Tony asked, his eyebrows drawing together in uncertainty._

_"Yes!" Steve laughed, wondering if he sounded crazy, sounded happy, sounded in love. "Gosh, yes! To keep from waking his lover, he cut off his sleeve that was trapped under his lover's head. His..."_

_"Gay lover," Tony finished for him, his smile growing to let the lines of crow's feet at his eyes to deepen._

_"Yeah," Steve breathed. His eyes blurred, but he blinked it away, not wanting anything to keep him from seeing Tony right at that moment. "I'm pretty sure... I love you."_

_The mouth quirk and nose wiggle. "Well, this kinda speaks for me, right?" Tony asked, gesturing to his missing sleeve. "And uh, well. Kirk has a reputation to uphold. Give me some sugar, babe."_

_Steve snorted. "You're so romantic," he laughed, cupping Tony's face in his hands to kiss him._

_And if people stopped to look, they didn't care._

* * *

The elevator opened on the floor of Stark Industries' assembly hall to a wall of sound, blaring music and hundreds of chattering voices. It's overwhelming at first, with the dim lighting, and Bucky has to separate the thumping bass from memories of artillery fire. Stark waded into the crowd like he owned the place--ugh, he did--with a confident swagger in stilettos. The room went up with a cheer in greeting for Stark, and with the attention completely on him, Bucky slid past to skirt along the edges of the party.

Steve could be anywhere in the mass of people, and while his height and broad shoulders should make him stick out like a sore thumb, many people had costumes that seemed to draw Bucky's eye.

And Bucky didn't even know what Steve was wearing.

So he waited along the wall, watching Stark move and the crowd part around him like Red Sea, leading straight to a tall cowboy.

A tall, broad shouldered cowboy that looked like he had walked out of _Stagecoach_ and into Technicolor. _Steve_.

Even from half a room away, Bucky could see the way Steve's eyes lit up as Stark approached, a fond, slow smile spreading over his lips. There was a quick kiss between them and Steve took Stark's hand to spin him around, getting a good look at all of Stark before pulling him in against him. Steve looked happy, smiling as he drew Stark into a slow dance. They swayed together in a few slow circles, and it became obvious that Stark had seen Bucky at some point, because he's inching them in Bucky's direction.

As the rhythm picked up into something like a thundering heartbeat, Stark brought Steve along the outer edges of the dance crowd, and just within earshot of Bucky.

"So, uh, happy coming out anniversary," Stark shouted over the music. "By the way, I got you a present."

"Tony!" Steve pouted. "I thought we agreed--"

"Nope. You suggested. I never agreed or disagreed. So. Tough shit."

Steve sighed, and though he tried to seem frustrated, a gleam of wistful anticipation shown in his eyes.

"This present. It's... special. Important. And... it's..." Stark wiggled his nose, quirking the corner of his mouth in a way that Bucky had come to realize was Stark trying to hide what he was feeling from his face. "It's what you wanted..."

At Steve's confused face, Stark drew him down in a slow, sweet kiss, like Bucky'd seen soldiers give their gals before getting shipped out. Like he wanted to keep going, because maybe this was the last chance he'd get, so he wrote his heart on Steve's lips with his own. It was beautiful and heartbreaking in a way Bucky could never remember seeing before, and a little rock if guilt sat in Bucky's stomach just watching, growing heavier at the sight of a very pleased and daze Steve as they parted.

"So, with my name being all over this party, I've got hosting duties and all that. Pep's backing me up here, which... leaves you free to. I dunno. Teach that wallflower to mingle?"

"What?" Steve laughed, like Stark wasn't speaking English. Instead of saying anything more, Stark turned Steve and... 

Eye contact.

Steve's mouth worked, like there were words he should have said, but no sound was heard over the noise of the party. The only coherent thing Bucky could read from Steve's lips was Bucky's name. 

Stark waited just long enough to give Bucky a nod before heading back out onto the floor, shouting into the mob for attention and getting swallowed by cheers in response. It left them alone, or as alone as they could be in a room full of people.

"You came," Steve finally said, stepping forward and utterly baffled about where he should put his hands-- on Bucky or in his pockets?

"Yeah, Stark. He can be... convincing." Bucky shrugged, the soft leather of his jacket shifting on his shoulders.

Steve settled for leaning against the wall with Bucky, blushing just a little as he looked Bucky over. "You look..."

"Like some fella called James Dean, apparently."

"We're sitting down for a marathon, Buck. You'll love him."

"Yeah?" And Steve just nodded at him. "So, what about you? That the Ringo Kid you're wearing, cowboy?"

Steve smiled. "I knew you'd remember the movie."

"Well, sure. We saw it twice." Bucky nudge Steve in the side with his elbow. "Thought you were gonna run off to Hollywood without me to be an outlaw yourself."

"Not quite," Steve smiled, but in that moment his eyes were distant and sad. "I'd never leave you behind if I could help it."

"Alright, so I get your getup, but I'm lost on almost everyone else's. Fill me in?"

And so they circled the rooms, skirting the corridors, with Steve pointing out people and explaining the more eye catching costumes. Many folks stepped up to chat with Steve, especially SHIELD agents who were curious about Bucky. Steve introduced Bucky to everyone, as 'his best friend from even way back before the War'. It was almost like old times, but in a reversed sort of way, with everyone wanting to touch Steve and Bucky was just a presence at Steve's side.

Sometimes they wandered into areas with only a handful of people, allowing Steve to take Bucky's hand for a few minutes or put his hand to the small of Bucky's back. Steve ducked in for a kiss just once, quick and almost non-existent against Bucky's lips. 

"Sorry, too forward," Steve said, a flush to his cheeks as he scratched his forehead. His smile was shy and sweet as he looked up at Bucky, the tiny boy from Brooklyn peeking through. "I'm just really happy that you're here. I'm so glad you and Tony try."

Bucky searched the room, finding Stark keeping court with a horde of dead and rotting guys on the opposite side of the Assembly Hall. He'd managed it all night, keeping his distance as far from Steve as possible, and the heavy stone in Bucky's gut felt heavier because of it.

"Yeah, well, Stark's an idiot." Steve made a frustrated sound, ready to open his mouth in Stark's defense, but Bucky cut him short. "No, look. Tonight. This is your night with him. So... Go to him tonight." 

Steve gave him a sweet, wistful smile. "Bucky... I wish you'd let me kiss you right now."

"Save it for Stark, cowboy."

* * *

The Halloween party was still going strong when Bucky began to subtly beg out. Steve couldn't blame him, remembering some of the first galas and parties Tony had brought him along to, how overwhelming and confusing they could be. After trying to catch Tony's eye all night, Steve gave up on trying to get his attention and texted Tony that he was heading back upstairs with Bucky.

The silence of the apartment was almost as deafening as the music at the party, and Steve had JARVIS play one of his slower mixes from _Before_ , songs that both Steve and Bucky knew by heart.

"I thought you were going up to the penthouse," Bucky said, shrugging off the leather jacket.

Steve tossed his cowboy hat aside and untied the bandanna from around his neck. "I've... been waiting all night to ask. You think I could have a dance?"

Bucky smiled at him, that beautiful half-grin he loved so much, and he pulled Bucky into a slow dance with him, his arms around Bucky's shoulders like old times despite the height difference. They swayed easily as they kissed slowly, letting one song blend into another until an hour had passed.

"I'd better go," Steve whispered, pressing for one last kiss. The sad, almost guilty look on Bucky's face as he drew away was a little unsettling.

"He's an ass," Bucky said, swallowing hard. "But don't you dare stop loving him."

"Bucky...?" Steve didn't know exactly what to say, reaching out to touch Bucky's face, put his hand on his shoulder.

"It's nothing. Go on. I've ruined enough of your night--ah, ah, this was supposed to be a night for you two, not us. So go... give him some of your time."

Steve kissed Bucky again, on the lips, then his forehead, before heading out with a quiet goodbye. The penthouse was still dark when he reached it, no one home but him. He undressed and hung up his costume, smiling as he tucked it away in the closet for another time, and then moved on to putting together another one in the spur of the moment. 

A pair of plain white briefs and white tube socks were unburied from the back of Steve's underwear drawer, the only clothing he needed. He put on his black dress shoes and popped out the lenses on a pair of Tony's thick black-framed sunglasses. Sitting back on the bed, he was a proud mish-mash of Brad Majors and Rocky. And now to wait for Dr. Frank-N-Furter to stalk into his room.

It was two hours before the elevator dinged, and even after waiting another fifteen minutes, Steve was still alone in the bedroom. After checking with JARVIS that it was Tony that arrived and he was alone, Steve ventured out into the living room. He found Tony sprawled across the armchair near the bar, drinking down a tumbler of amber liquor. Save for his lipstick, the last of it smeared faintly on his glass, the rest of Tony's makeup and costume held up well.

"Say, one of you guys know how to Madison?"

Tony looked up just a moment to take in the sight at the entrance way, his eyes wide and his mouth open, before he turned back to his glass and cursed. "Shit."

"That good or bad?"

"Not exactly what I had expected?" Tony slurred, shutting his eyes and throwing back the last mouthful of bourbon and rolling it around on his tongue.

Steve sighed, feeling a little weary and disappointed. "You're drunk." It's not a question. The smell of the alcohol had wafted it's way over to Steve, bitter and acidic. 

"I'm fine," Tony was quick to reply, holding his glass up as if for a toast. "Besides, you shouldn't even be here. You left with your... _fella_."

"I've been waiting for you," Steve sighed. "This was our night, you know. Bucky even insisted I be with you tonight."

Tony's jaw clenched and he shook his head. "Barnes is an idiot."

"Tony--"

"No, he is. Because I practically handed you over to him on a silver platter. No argument. No pissing contest. And the fucking... _moron_ pushed you right back at me!"

The words worked their way into Steve's chest and left him cold down to the pit of his stomach. "What...? Tony..."

Tony straightened up in the chair, getting to his feet in order to stumble over to the bar. He didn't bother pouring into his empty tumbler, just drank straight from the decanter. "I'm tired of the fighting. Of him... _stealing_ all your time. Of... _sloppy seconds_."

"Stop talking, Tony. You're drunk, you don't mean it," Steve said, his voice going stern with commanding tones to hide the cracking and begging underneath.

He wouldn't look Steve in the eye, but there was a fierce challenge in the set of his jaw, the heave of his chest as he breathed. "The hell I don't." 

"Maybe you should drink some water, Tony. We can go to bed--"

Tony slammed the decanter on the bar top, making Steve's heart stop. "Maybe you should just leave already."

For a second, Steve's jaw just worked, his throat clicked as he swallowed. "Is that what you want?"

There was no answer, just Tony staring hard in the general direction of the elevator. Steve just nodded, trying to breathe through the chill in his chest. He went into the bedroom to throw off the glasses, pull on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, and switch his dress shoes for running shoes. When he passed the living room on the way to the elevator, he couldn't bring himself to look to see if Tony was still there.

* * *

Bucky was eating his first, and maybe last, _Twinkie_ as he sat in the entertainment room with Natasha, Darcy, Clint, and Bruce, watching the screen as a man named Tallahassee complained how it wasn't the taste, but the texture of coconut that put him off _Snowballs_. The movie was way over his head with pop culture references, but Darcy patted his leg and smiled, promising she'd work with him.

The ding of the elevator out in the common area was faint, but enough to draw Bucky's attention from the movie, so he was watching the doorway as Steve rushed past it. With a double take, Bucky got to his feet. 

"Don't bother pausing. I'll be... I gotta go." He slipped away from the movie and into the hall, moving as fast as he could to the back stairs that led down to the gym. 

"Steve?" Vaulting over the railing, Bucky came to a stop to find Steve with his back to him, standing there with sweaty clothes in the middle of the mats, seeming small and lost despite his large size.

Bucky walked up to him, putting his hands on Steve's shoulders to try turning him. Steve was freezing to the touch, the sweat on his clothing cold and clammy from the low evening temperatures of late fall. "Christ, Steve! What--"

"I had to clear my mind. Do something. I don't even know what happened," Steve shook his head, his jaw tight and shoulders tense with stress.

"Was it Stark?" Bucky asked, trying to shake Steve like he used to, when Steve was still his baby boy. Even now, he still couldn't get over how it was like trying to shift a mountain.

Steve scratched his forehead and looked to the mats. "I don't know what I did--"

"Steve, look at me." But he wouldn't, keeping his blue eyes everywhere but on Bucky. "Look at me, Steve! So help me, I'm going to kill him."

"No!" Steve shouted, his eyes wide and bright with hurt. It set Bucky's insides to burn, rolling with anger. "No, he just... We'll talk in the morning."

Bucky wasn't going to wait for morning, making his way to the elevators. _You hurt Steve,_ he had growled that first night, _and there will be no SHIELD facility in this world that will hold me back._ He wasn't about to lapse on his promises.

"Bucky, don't!" Steve commanded, following after him. "If you try hurting him, SHIELD will take you back."

Storming his way through the common area and into the private elevator, Bucky made sure the doors closed before Steve could enter. When the doors opened to the penthouse, he was suddenly face to face with a red eyed Stark.

Sporting a dirty and tattered tanktop and pair of jeans, careless removal of his costume makeup leaving behind smears across his face, Tony took an unsteady step back at the sight of Bucky.

"You. Son of a _bitch_!" Bucky started, advancing into the penthouse on Stark.

"What the fuck do you want?" Stark glared back, leaning in. "You've got your damn boyfriend back. Leave me the fuck alone."

"I actually felt sorry for you. Maybe because Steve loves you, I don't know. But you blew that all to hell, didn't you?" Bucky clenched his hands, but forced them to stay at his sides. 

"How is this any of your damn business? I'm through with Steve, so that means I'm done with you! Now get the hell out of my house!"

"You could have just kept it going the way it's been! You didn't have to walk away! You didn't have to hurt him!"

Stark pushed at Bucky, making it that much harder to keep his hands down. "Who are you to judge! You should have walked away from the start! You've been hurting Steve all this time!"

"I had no control over suddenly coming back to life! Do you think I'd wait until he was happy with someone else? Do you really think I've wanted to ruin Steve's life?"

"Maybe not, but you have done a mighty fine job of it," Stark hissed.

"Like you haven't?!" Bucky yelled, digging his blunt nails into his palms. "You broke his heart!"

"It was mine or his, but at least he has you to cry on!"

"You selfish, arrogant bastard! You're no better than your father!"

The elevator dinged, the doors opening just as Stark's fist connected with Bucky's face. Steve yelled, his hands on Bucky to pull him back. Bucky threw his hands up in surrender, but he wouldn't yield from where he stood in Stark's personal space.

"Apologize!" Bucky demanded.

"Fuck you," Stark spit back.

Bucky shook his head, wiping at his split lip. "Not to me, I don't give a damn about you. But you're gonna say sorry to Steve. You love him, you asshole."

"You don't know me."

Steve was still trying to pull Bucky along, putting force into it, but Bucky wasn't going until he was heard. "I don't have to know you. I've seen it all over your face, like I've looked in the mirror and seen it all over mine. Now say you're sorry, or I will beat the living tar out of you!"

He watched as Stark blinked, looking from Bucky to Steve standing behind him. "Steve?"

Steve gave up on tugging Bucky, standing back from them both to shake his head. "Don't..." he said, his voice hoarse and strained. "If you don't mean it, don't... say anything. It's okay..."

"Steve... I'm... such a fucking idiot," Stark sighed, looking to the floor.

"We all are," Steve agreed, letting out a shaky breath. "And, for now... I think we're done. All of us... For tonight..."

They all parted ways from there, with Tony staying in his penthouse, Steve laying out on a sofa in the common room alone with a blanket, and Bucky hanging his head as he trudged into his apartment to nurse his bruised face and heart.

* * *

The sting in his knuckles and in his heart was enough to sober Tony somewhat. He filled the ice bucket at the bar and stuck his fist in it, hoping he could bring the swelling down. It hurt like hell punching Barnes, like punching a flesh-covered brick wall.

Fucking _Barnes_.

The asshole had no right charging in on Tony's home, getting into Tony's face, saying he was just like Howard. He was letting that dick stay in _his_ Tower, because Steve had asked.

_Steve._

God, what had he done to Steve? What had they _both_ done? In the months since Barnes surfaced on the Helicarrier, Steve has been both the happiest and the most miserable Tony had ever seen. As much as he wanted and was willing to blame the worst of it all on Barnes, Tony knew better.

Especially after tonight. That had been Tony's own stupidity, thinking he could play the villain to shove Steve away. He had been hoping Steve would fight back, make it worse and get Tony mad, so he could use the anger to bury the pain underneath. It was so much easier to be angry than to hurt.

He never expected Steve to just leave, his face as confused and lost as a kicked puppy's. On top of that, he never though Barnes would crashing in like an enraged momma bear, wanting an apology for Steve.

Tony snorted, shaking his head. For as jealous as that asshole could be, Barnes wasn't going to let Tony give up on Steve. What kind of shit was that? 

Maybe it was Tony that was the asshole here. After all, who would dump Steve, _Steve_ , on his anniversary? Barnes certainly wouldn't. Jesus. Tony had been so worried Steve would leave him for Barnes. Of all things, he never expected _Barnes_ would try keeping them together.

Tony rubbed at his face with his good hand. "JARVIS. Compile a list of things that Barnes eats. Give me the top three."

"Apparently, he enjoys pancakes, assorted breakfast meats, and _Kraft Macaroni and Cheese_ , sir."

"Specifically the Blue Box, huh? We don't happen to have any, do we?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"What do we have?" Tony asked, grabbing his ice bucket and heading to the kitchen.

"Ingredients for pancakes and bacon, sir."

"Pancakes are too involved. Let's make some bacon."

Within a half hour, Tony had managed to cook a pound of bacon, in varying states of overdone-ness, and only burned himself in the grease splatter three times.

"What am I doing, JARVIS?" Tony asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Other than making a semblance of breakfast, I am not aware of any other intentions you may have planned."

"I have an apology to attempt. Wish me luck, JARVIS."

"Break a leg, sir."

"Haha, I'm not kidding, JARVIS," Tony said, rolling his eyes as he picked up the plate of bacon and headed toward the elevator.

"Then I wish you all the luck, sir."

The elevator stopped on floor of Steve's old apartment, and Tony took a moment to look over the balcony to the common area, watching Steve sleep. He couldn't tell from the lighting or the distance if Steve was awake at all, but he made no sound of noticing Tony looking down at him, so Tony supposed he wasn't.

"I swear I can be better than this," Tony whispered, like a prayer to the angel on the sofa. "You make me better than this..."

With a sigh, Tony took a moment to brace himself before knocking on the apartment door with his good hand.

"It's open!" Barnes answered, so Tony let himself in. He found the man sitting at the kitchen island, nursing a beer in between holding a pack of frozen corn to his mouth. When Barnes looked up, Tony heard a muffled curse and _oh, it's you_ against the plastic. "Go chase yourself, Stark. I've had enough of you tonight for a lifetime."

Tony edged in closer to Barnes, slow movements like he was inching toward a spooked animal, while holding out the plate of bacon. "Look. Okay. I understand the hostilities and I deserve them. I do. We've been stupid--"

"Speak for yourself," Barnes glared over his makeshift ice pack, shifting on the barstool to put his back to Tony. Little did he know one didn't end a conversation with Tony Stark so easily.

They really needed to get to know each other better. Even if it was just for Steve.

"Yes. I've been stupid. For a genius, that wasn't the brightest move, trying to dump Steve. And..." Tony put the plate down on the island, pushing it slowly across the surface until it bumped Barnes' elbow. "... Thank you. For, I dunno, making me see the error in my ways? How's your face, by the way?"

Barnes rolled his eyes before giving Tony a glare. He dropped the corn on the counter to reveal the deep red bruising at the left corner of his mouth and the healed over split of his lip. 

Tony cringed and whistled. "If it makes you feel any better, your head is hard as a rock."

"It doesn't."

"Fine. Okay. Look. We've been going at this wrong. Started on the wrong foot. We saw each other as rivals, and that isn't right." Tony sighed, letting his shoulders sag. "We aren't. What we should be are... Partners."

Barnes rose a skeptical eyebrow. "Partners?"

"Yup. Partners. In keeping Steve happy. Because we both know how to do it on our own but. Together? He'd be the happiest guy in the world. Right?" Tony nudged the plate at Barnes again.

Barnes pointedly looked down at the food. "What's with the bacon?"

"A peace offering. An olive branch." Tony shrugged. "A bacon branch, if you will."

He blinked as Barnes started laughing, surprised at the easy, deep sound of it, and how his smile made him look more like a mischievous little boy than the angry grown man he'd seen more often than not lately.

Picking up a crispy strip, Barnes took a bite. "Okay then, Stark. Do you... have some sort of plan?"

"Not exactly, but I think tag-teaming him is the best way to go."

"Tag-team means working together, ya know. We haven't exactly got along very well in the past," Barnes reminded him, downing the last of swallow from his bottle.

"Yeah, but. Steve. This is for Steve. You'd do anything for him, right? You went to war for him."

Barnes gave Tony a sharp look. "I did. And I'd do it all over again."

Tony nodded. "My actions today didn't look like much in proof, but I would, too."

"No, I saw it." Barnes shrugged and ate another piece of bacon. "In a round-about ass backwards kinda way. You'd rather be miserable than make Steve unhappy."

"Yeah, well. My plans don't always fall into place."

"But they're laced with good intentions," Barnes smiled at Tony. "Steve's kinda a sucker for that."

"Steve's a sucker for a lot of things," Tony leaned against the counter, sliding a step closer. "Hard luck cases. Babies and small fluffy animals. Poor, suffering artists. A sappy romance novel. Good looking, dark haired guys that want to give him the world."

Barnes gave him a considering look, smirking as he spoke. "Are you flirting, Mr. Stark? I'm a taken man."

"My dad was Mr. Stark. Call me Tony."

Barnes held out his hand. "Bucky Barnes."

"Oh, so you're Bucky now?" Tony asked, shaking his hand but not letting go. "We've worked up to that?"

Bucky winked, taking another bite of bacon. "Well, you extended a bacon branch. Can't really resist that."

"If I had known you were this easy for bacon..."

"All you had to do was ask Steve. Try pancakes next time. I might hump your leg."

Tony found himself drawn in a little closer to Bucky's devil-may-care smile. "JARVIS said something about having the ingredients in stock upstairs..."

"You're awful fresh for someone who didn't like me just a few hours ago. What would Steve say?"

Still holding Bucky's hand, Tony moved further into Bucky's personal space and gave his best smile, the one Steve practically melts for. "I think Steve would appreciate us getting along. I mean, look at it like this: that serum can get him nearly insatiable sometimes. I'm. Well. I'm getting _older_. And can't always keep up. It's a lot of work to get him wrecked."

Right there, Tony saw those hazel eyes dilate, Bucky's eyes going dark and almost green. Tony wished he could read his mind, see what images Bucky could conjure of a body they both knew so well. 

"So, teamwork?" Bucky inclined his head, mischief and heat coloring his face.

Tony grabbed hold of Bucky's teeshirt. "Fuck yes," he agreed, pulling Bucky into a kiss.

Fucking _Bucky_.

Maybe Tony had him wrong all along. Maybe that ass might not be so bad after all.

* * *

Sleep wasn't easy, not with a fresh wave of anger and disappointment rolling in his gut. He was a fool to think this would work, that he could have them both and they all be happy. It made Steve's chest ache to see how selfish he had become, that because he loved them, they would magically get along and be happy together. Was it really fair, that he have each of them, but leave them fighting over him? How could he ever expect them to agree to sharing? He was lucky this whole love triangle hadn't come to blows sooner.

Never in his mind had Steve ever thought he'd be in a situation like this, pulled between two people that had come to love him so much. Bucky, who had seen into his small body to find something he was willing to protect, to wade into hell for, to die for. He never had the chance with Peggy like Steve thought he would, but that couldn't be helped. And it didn't matter so much later when he found Tony, who showed him a world that could still be beautiful and made him happy to be alive after he had lost _everything_.

Between the two of them, it was like having the familiarity and surety of _home_ in one hand, and the all the possibilities and freedom of the _future_ in the other. And there was no way Steve could find it in his heart to take one over the other. It had to be both or none. 

All or nothing.

But at the rate everything was falling apart... nothing was looking more like the option to take. 

Tony's attempt to take the decision from under Steve was cruel, and it hurt Steve more than he wanted to admit at the moment. But Bucky flying off the handle to go after Tony had been dangerous, and could have cost Bucky his freedom if his self-control hadn't been so strong. It was escalating to something more than Steve could control and he was not looking forward to the endgame.

It was probably best if he didn't let it get that far to begin with.

He shut his eyes and forced himself to sleep, because even if it wasn't really restful, it would pass the hours quicker in his mind and give him less time to rethink it all over.

Dawn broke over the skyline of Manhattan with beautiful pinks and golds, coloring the common area it's warm light as it woke Steve. With a heavy heart and dull shuffling, Steve sat up to look at the sky through the wall of windows, wishing he wasn't alone to share something this perfect. 

He had two people he loved so much, and yet he was alone on this gorgeous morning. It wasn't something he wanted to get used to, but...

Both or none. All or nothing.

"JARVIS..."

"Yes, Captain Rogers?"

"Tony and Bucky... They're still asleep, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid so, Captain. Shall I alert you to when they wake?"

"Yeah. Just..." Steve sighed. He wasn't eager to have this conversation with his boys anymore than they would be. With Tony owning the whole Tower and Bucky having very little elsewhere to go, it was difficult to think of a level playing field to talk with them. "Where would you consider neutral ground around here, JARVIS?"

"The common room in which you are located could be considered the most neutral, however public due to traffic of other members of the team."

The last thing Steve wanted was anyone else involved, even if they were friends or meant well. "Any other suggestions?"

"Might I recommend your apartment, Captain? Seeing as both parties are occupying it as we speak?"

Steve's head shot up, looking to the high ceiling in horror and disbelief. "What?"

"After you had fallen asleep, Mr. Stark approached Mr. Barnes in your apartment."

Throwing off his blanket, Steve took the flight of stairs at a run. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Please say they didn't kill each other!"

He barreled through the apartment door, grateful that JARVIS unlocked it for him, and looked around frantically. There was no sign of struggle, which Steve should already have known, seeing as the rest of the Avengers would have been alerted if Bucky so much as _poked_ Tony the wrong way. The only things out of place that Steve noticed right off were two empty beer bottles and a plate on the kitchen island and Bucky's teeshirt on the hall floor.

The living room, bathroom, and spare room were all empty, leaving the bedroom at the end of the hall to check. Of all the scenarios running through his mind of what was going on behind that door, he was not prepared for the one he found when he shoved it open.

Two pairs of pants led a trail to the bed, where both Bucky and Tony slept. 

_Together_.

Bucky laid on his back, arms folded over his chest, near the edge of the bed closest to the door. His time on the battlefield was still hardwired into him, making him ready to move for an exit at a moments notice, or protect those with him-- _Steve_ \--if the exit was compromised. Curled against Bucky was a complete contrast in the loose sprawl of limbs that was Tony. Half on his side, half on his stomach, Tony seemed to press against Bucky; his face tucked against Bucky shoulder, an arm over Bucky's waist, fingers tangled in the waistband of Bucky's boxers, his leg draped over Bucky's thigh. It would almost look like Bucky was resisting the invasion of his personal sleeping space if his own head wasn't tilted toward Tony, a tiny smile in the middle of the peaceful calm on his face.

It was beautiful, far more so than the morning sun, and warmed Steve more than any golden glow. He had dreamed of this a few times, waking up to sleepy thoughts of climbing in with them, from as far back as when he first started dating Tony. With them both under the same roof, it became a guilty, secret fantasy that he pushed deep down, afraid to entertain while they bickered around him.

The sight of them squashed the miserable feelings of the morning and night before, filling Steve with a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe it would be okay...

Being a light sleeper from a lifetime of watching out for Steve, Bucky's eyes fluttered at the creak of Steve leaning against the doorframe. He turned his head and looked around, his sleepy hazel eyes finding Steve easily.

It could almost be a dream, with the lazy smile Bucky gave him, Tony sleeping at Bucky's side. But the bruise at the side of Bucky's mouth was a livid puce, a reminder of the disaster that was last night. Making this real.

No dream or fantasy.

 _Both_ of them. Together.

"You getting in the bed or what, punk?"

Steve didn't bother with getting undressed, just climbed over them to find unoccupied space. He spooned up behind Tony and reached out his arm to pull Bucky in.

So many questions and they all wanted to stick in Steve's throat. "How...?" he begged against Tony's shoulder, pressing his face to the soft fabric of Tony's tank-top. Tony snuffled and shifted, but still slept on.

Bucky rolled his eyes and shifted onto his side, making Tony shuffle back against Steve with a sleepy sigh. "You know we'd both do anything for you? I think we've come to an understanding of sorts."

"By... being together?" Steve blushed, heat coiling in his belly at the thought, the very idea of it.

Bucky shrugged, his impish smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "It's a start, right? All the better to share you with, my dear."

Steve liked the sound of that.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the starting point for a much larger universe, originally known as OT3!verse. Much of it has already been half written as ficlets and drabbles on both [Tumblr](http://littlethingofevil.tumblr.com/fiction) and [LiveJournal](http://chibimono.livejournal.com/tag/ot3%21verse). I'm looking to eventually write it all into larger fics at some point in the future.
> 
> Edit: Ha, this fic is almost a year old now. :/ I'm still working on this universe, but my muses have taken a hard hit by a lot of RL crap. I'm seeking help with inspiration. Perhaps, if you'd like to learn more about this universe, [you'd check out my tumblr dedicated to it](http://www.shiftingdynamics.tumblr.com)?


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